I'm Only In It For The Love
by piratewench78
Summary: The very beginnings of Rayna Jaymes.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Ordinarily I wouldn't attempt to have two stories running at the same time, but this idea got in my head and I wanted to see if people would be interested. We don't know a lot about Virginia Jaymes Wyatt. We know she died young, probably at the hand of her husband, Lamar Wyatt. We know she was unhappy in her marriage and had a decade-long affair with Watty White, one that continued until her death. We know she likely loved her daughters very much, although we don't know why she was willing to leave them behind. We know that she was the one who inspired Rayna to pursue a career in country music and gave her her first guitar. We know she was Rayna's hero.**_

 _ **This story starts with Virginia, although it doesn't end with her. This is how things began for Rayna, back when she was just twelve years old. My plan is to take it to when she meets Deacon. It will primarily be Rayna's voice, with a little Tandy.**_

 _ **I'd love to know if you like this idea. I probably won't update as often as 'Perfect Storm', as long as that story runs, but I hope you are as intrigued with this as I am. Thanks for reading!**_

 **Prologue**

 _ **1982**_

Virginia Wyatt was speeding through town, hoping there were no cops along the way. She kept glancing at the time on her dashboard, aware she would be cutting it close to get home before her younger daughter. She smiled to herself anyway when she thought about the reason for her lateness.

She had been leaning against the sink in the studio apartment bathroom, in an old building just north of downtown, reapplying her makeup after her quick shower. Watty had walked up behind her and kissed the place on her neck behind her ear. Then he'd pulled away the towel she had wrapped around her and she'd spread her legs for what she thought would be a quick, til-next-time fuck. It had turned into something sensual and erotic and they both had been loath to have it end. She didn't regret it, of course, but she hated cutting things so close.

Rayna was her sensitive daughter, just eleven, but with an old soul who seemed to have lived a life already filled with heartache. It would serve her well, Virginia knew, when she was older. Rayna was creative and would be an artist one day, already possessing a beautiful voice and a way with musical storytelling. But she would be expecting her mother to be home when she got there from school, so Virginia pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

Her daughters were everything to her. Tandy, her oldest, was self-sufficient already, even at fifteen. She was practical and logical, all the things Virginia was not, but she was also fiercely loyal. Virginia was proud of Tandy, proud of how smart she was and pleased with how protective she was of Rayna. Tandy had never been that big sister who didn't have time for a younger sister who idolized her.

Virginia sighed, feeling a lump in her throat. One day soon that would be a good thing. Tandy would be there for Rayna, give her some stability. Because someday – she wasn't sure precisely when – she would have to go. She'd fallen head over heels in love with and married the admittedly dashing and charismatic Lamar Wyatt, bore him two children and raised them, and graced his arm in Belle Meade society. But somewhere along the way, she'd grown disenchanted with him and with her marriage, feeling like a butterfly caught in a net. What she knew for sure was that she had to escape. As much as she adored her daughters, she couldn't stay.

She had met Watty White at one of the honky tonks on lower Broadway she frequented, when Rayna wasn't quite a year old. At first she was just an admirer of the young songwriter, who had a deft touch with lyrics and music and a voice like fine Belle Meade bourbon. As she got to know him, she felt that undeniable desire to know him intimately, not totally unlike how she'd felt about Lamar in the beginning. Within six months, she and Watty were lovers. She knew Lamar knew about the affair, although she was very discreet, but he chose not to acknowledge it. She knew it was because he valued the Belle Meade connections of the Jaymes family, even more entrenched than those of the Wyatts. And because he didn't interfere, she dutifully fulfilled her wifely obligations every Wednesday and Sunday. It was a small price to pay, in her mind.

Thinking about Lamar made her frown. When she met him she thought he was charming and debonair, quite the catch in Belle Meade society. He was thoughtful and attentive, treating her like a queen. She had never felt quite like she fit into the top shelf family she'd been born into, always searching for something else more fulfilling. But he had seemed to share her love for music, which was her passion, and had seemed enchanted with her eccentricities and her flights of fancy, and she had fallen in love with him.

As a husband, however, she'd found him controlling and dictatorial. Their interests weren't as similar as he'd led her to believe at first. He'd pressured her to start a family, something she hadn't wanted right away. But a year after they were married, Tandy was born, and while she loved her daughter with her whole heart, she had put him off as long as she could before having Rayna four years later. As much as he doted on the girls, he was disappointed not to have a son, but she closed the door on any other children. Her affair with Watty had the effect of rendering that moot, as Lamar would not risk her getting pregnant with another man's child.

As she flew up the drive, she grimaced at the monstrosity of a house they lived in. But it was what Lamar wanted, a symbol of their stature in the community. She rolled her eyes. She parked the car and jumped out, then ran up the back stairs from the kitchen and reapplied the lipstick Watty had kissed off before he'd let her leave. Then she heard the door slam. "Mom! Mom!" she heard Rayna call out. She dropped the lipstick on the vanity and walked out, smoothing down her slacks, hoping her daughter didn't smell him on her.

* * *

Virginia lazily smoothed her hand over Rayna's hair, periodically winding her finger in one of her daughter's reddish-gold curls. Rayna was telling her about her day at school, about a test she'd taken and the lunch they'd had, which she'd hated. Then Rayna looked up at her, her cornflower blue eyes suddenly sad. "Why are girls so mean, Mom?" she asked.

Virginia frowned. "What do you mean, sweet girl?" she responded. "Who was mean to you?"

Rayna sighed. "Oh, that awful Betsy Mann and Mary Julian Lowe." Tears filled her eyes and Virginia pulled her close.

"What happened?" Her heart ached for her daughter. Rayna was such a lovely young girl, with a sweet disposition, and a beautiful smile. Where Tandy was all angles and lines, Rayna was smooth, rounded edges. Tandy could take care of herself, her sense of self well-formed when she was a small child. But her Rayna, she was the child who needed comfort. Virginia could see that she was starting to develop a harder shell, but she wasn't quite there yet, so it hurt her heart to see her baby hurting.

Rayna brushed back the tears, hating to show weakness, and scowled. "Oh, you know, there's going to be a solo at the spring concert, so we're all trying out." She looked up at her mother. "And they were making fun of the twang in my voice. I don't have a twang."

Virginia smiled sadly. "Of course you don't, my sweet," she said. "You have a lovely voice. I'm sure much prettier than Betsy Mann's or Mary Julian Lowe's. Plus you're so much prettier than they are." Rayna smiled up at her. _She is, too. She's going to break hearts when she's older and then she'll find herself the handsomest boy in the room and he'll be so smitten with her. She just doesn't know it yet_. She widened her smile. "I have a new tape. Want to listen?"

Rayna's face lit up. "Oh, yes!" she said.

Virginia got up from the couch and walked to her purse, sitting by the back door. She reached in and pulled out the cassette tape Watty had slipped in there when she got to the apartment. _Some new music for you to listen to, my sweet._ She had been more interested in the notes he would play on her body, but he was always surprising her with a unique mix of his favorites. This was the first time she'd played one for anyone but herself. She then slid the cassette into the tape player on the mantle and pressed play. Then she sat back down with Rayna and waited to hear what came first.

 _I am a poor wayfaring stranger / I'm traveling through this world of woe / Yet there's no sickness, toil, or danger / In that bright world to which I go_

 _I'm going there to see my father / I'm going there no more to roam / I'm only going over Jordan / I'm only going over home_

She felt like her breath had been stolen away. The arrangement was spare and haunting. For a half-second, she thought it actually was Watty singing, but then she realized it was not. It was still a gorgeous song. She looked down at Rayna and she could see her daughter was just as entranced by it as she was.

 _I know dark clouds will gather 'round me / I know my way is rough and steep / Yet beauteous fields lie just before me / Where God's redeemed, their vigils keep_

 _I'm going there to see my mother / She said she'd meet me when I come / I'm only going over Jordan / I'm only going over home_

She was surprised to see tears in Rayna's eyes, just around the rims. But then she wasn't surprised. Even at eleven, Rayna felt things deeply. She wasn't as superficial as other girls her age, girls like Betsy and Mary Julian. Rayna had substance to her, which was how Virginia knew that not only would she be special one day, but that she could overcome anything life would throw at her.

When the song ended, Virginia got up and shut off the tape. Nothing that came after was going to be as powerful, she knew. Rayna was looking up at her when she came back over and sat down. "What did you think?" Virginia asked finally.

Rayna bit her lip. "I don't know if I can put it in words," she said. She breathed in. "I wish I could write something like that. I don't know how to explain it, Mom, but it was like…." She looked a little helpless then.

Virginia nodded. "Like he was looking into your soul? Like he could see what was inside you?" Rayna nodded. Virginia put her arm around her daughter and pulled her close. "One day, Rayna, you're going to write words like that, _sing_ words like that, words that make other people feel deeply, just like you just did."

"How do you know that?"

Virginia shrugged. "I don't know. I just do." She hugged Rayna closer, knowing it was true.

 _ **1983**_

Virginia was feeling restless. Watty was out on the road and she missed him terribly. Things were deteriorating with Lamar and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out. She wasn't sure anymore if she were running towards something or just running away from something. She just knew she felt trapped in her life and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on. At least Lamar was headed out of town for a few days and she could take a breath and figure out what was next.

She glanced out the window. It was a gorgeous early spring day, late winter really, but it was warm in Nashville. She thought for a moment about what to do. Then she heard the sound of Rayna, trying to play the guitar she'd given her. She smiled to herself. _It's a good thing that girl has the voice of an angel, because she sure can't play that guitar to save her life._ She chuckled a little. _Even with lessons, she's going to need a guitar player to stand on stage with her._ Virginia had dreams for her daughter, dreams she knew Rayna was starting to share.

She ran out of her bedroom and down the hall. She stood at the doorway to Rayna's room, where her daughter sat on her bed, with her guitar. She was trying to pick out the chords and struggling. Virginia could see the frustration on her face. "Rayna," she said, and her daughter looked up. "Let's go out to the river. You, me and Tandy. It's such a pretty day. We can take a picnic and just have a nice afternoon."

Rayna jumped off her bed immediately, tossing the guitar on the cover. "I'll go get Tandy," she cried.

Virginia pointed at the guitar. "Bring your guitar, sweetheart," she said.

Rayna pouted. "Oh, Mom, I'm so bad."

Virginia shook her head. "Now, don't let me hear you sound so defeated, young lady. You just need to keep working on it. You're going to need that, even if it's just to help you write songs one day." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you working on anything?" One of the things she'd told Rayna when she gave her the guitar was that she could use that to help her work on her music. She thought it might be a good outlet for her daughter.

Rayna sighed with annoyance. "Oh, all right," she said, turning around and going back to pick up the guitar. Virginia noticed she hadn't answered about whether she was working on anything and just let it go. Her daughter was intensely private about some things and she knew not to pry. Rayna would let her know when she was ready.

Virginia smiled. "I'll get your sister. You meet us downstairs in the kitchen." And then she turned and walked down to Tandy's room.

* * *

It was the perfect day to be on the river. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. There was a very light breeze. The three of them sat on the rocks overlooking the river, after they'd finished their picnic lunch. Tandy turned back towards Rayna and squinted her eyes against the sun. "Sing for us, Rayna," she said.

Rayna made a face. "We can all sing together," she said. "I don't know why you don't think you can sing, Tandy."

Tandy laughed, a rich, full laugh. "Because I can't, baby girl. If I had to sing for a living, I'd be living on the streets." She turned to look at Virginia. "Tell her, Mom."

Virginia smiled. "Well, sweet girl, you're better than you think, but Rayna does have a beautiful voice." She was grateful Tandy wasn't jealous of Rayna's gift. Tandy had her own talents that Rayna didn't share and Virginia knew they would balance each other perfectly. She felt a sudden lump in her throat and looked away, out over the river. She knew the day was coming, sooner rather than later, and she knew she couldn't take her girls with her. She hoped Lamar would let her have them, once she got wherever she ended up, but she knew he might not.

Rayna sighed and then she picked up the guitar. She put her fingers on the frets and the strings and bent over, trying to work out the chords. Virginia could see the frustration on her face. "Rayna, sweetheart, don't try so hard," she said softly.

Rayna sighed again and stopped, putting her palm over the sound hole. Then she started to sing.

 _I don't know why I keep on believing you need me / When you've proved so many times that it ain't true / And I can't find one good reason for staying / Maybe my leaving would be the best for you_

 _But these rose colored glasses / That I'm looking through / Show only the beauty / 'Cause they hide all the truth_

Virginia closed her eyes as she listened to the song. It was one of her favorite songs and one that Rayna loved to sing for her. She smiled to herself as she listened. She heard Tandy join in, very softly.

 _And they let me hold on to the good times, good lines / The ones I used to hear when I held you / And they keep me from feeling so cheated, defeated / When reflections in your eyes show me a fool_

 _These rose colored glasses / That I'm looking through / Show only the beauty / 'Cause they hide all the truth_

She loved hearing her girls sing together, even though Rayna's was the stronger of the two voices. She loved these times with her girls and she could feel the tears behind her eyelids as she dreaded the day when she would leave them. They were her life and she loved them more than she'd ever believed she could. They had kept her here far longer than she would have thought she could stay, but she was losing herself, a little bit every day, and she could no longer do this.

She opened her eyes then and brushed at the tears. Rayna stopped singing. "Mom, why are you crying?" she asked. Tandy turned to look at her with concern.

Virginia shook her head and smiled. "I'm listening to the voices of two angels. Why wouldn't that bring me to tears?" she said.

* * *

Rayna's light was on and Virginia stepped into her room. "You aren't asleep yet, sweetheart?" she asked.

Rayna shook her head. "I should be tired but I'm not," she said.

Virginia walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Why not?"

"We try out for solos tomorrow. I think I'm just too nervous." She sighed. "I don't know if I want to do this."

Virginia frowned. "Oh, honey, you need to. You have a gift, Rayna." She smiled at her then. "It's your responsibility to share that with people. I love watching you do that and nothing makes me happier than seeing you share that gift."

Rayna smiled back and then sighed. "I want to be a singer, Mom."

Virginia took her daughter's hand. "You will be, Rayna. I'm sure you're going to be picked for a solo."

"No, I mean that's what I want to be when I grow up. I want to stand on a stage and sing country music. Even if I have to have someone else play guitar for me." She smiled a little shyly. "That's my dream."

Virginia breathed in deeply, then smiled at Rayna. "I believe you will, sweet girl. I believe you're going to be the Queen of Country Music one day. I believe in you."

Rayna beamed. "Thank you, Mom. I want you to be proud of me."

"I already am."

* * *

She waited until Lamar left the house, headed for Louisville. They'd had a horrible fight and he'd thrown her affair with Watty in her face. Accused her of disrespecting him and their marriage. She'd told him she was leaving him, a split second decision to do it that night, and then went to the closet to pull out her suitcase. He had told her before that if she left, she would never be welcomed back home, would never see Tandy and Rayna again, and he reminded her of that again. That had tugged at her heart, but she'd always known this day would come, and she didn't back down.

He left in a huff and she had watched out the window until she saw the Cadillac wind down the driveway and out to the street. Then she had turned back and thrown clothes into her suitcase. She carried it down the back stairs and out to her car, putting it in the trunk and gently closing it. The girls' rooms faced the back of the house, so she went back upstairs to see them.

Tandy was in Rayna's room and they were giggling over tabloid magazines. "What are y'all doing?" she asked, trying to keep the anxiousness out of her voice.

Tandy slid the magazine under Rayna's pillow. "Just keeping up with all the celebrities," she said. She frowned. "Are you going out?"

That Tandy didn't miss a thing, Virginia thought. _Too smart for her own good._ She cleared her throat and smiled. "Actually I need to run pick up something for the Symphony Gala," she said. It was a good thing that event was coming up. She actually hated the idea of missing it. It was one of the few society events she really enjoyed, but it could not be helped. She simply couldn't stay in this cage for another moment. "I shouldn't be gone too long. You girls be okay?" She needed to go. She wasn't sure she could keep up this charade for much longer.

Tandy smiled then. "We'll be fine."

Virginia walked over and hugged them both, probably a little longer than would have seemed normal. She breathed in the smell of them, though about how much she would miss them. It was the only thing that gave her pause. When she let Rayna go, her younger daughter looked concerned. "Are you okay, Mom?" she asked.

Virginia put on her best smile. "Of course. I just love you girls so much. Always know that." She turned and headed for the door, then turned back. "Be good," she said. They nodded, then huddled back together over the magazines. She stood and looked at them for a moment, their red heads practically touching. _Farewell, my darlings. I hope to see you again very soon._ As the tears welled up in her eyes, she turned and walked away swiftly.

* * *

When she got out of the city, it was dark. It always surprised her how dark it was even just twenty minutes out of Nashville. She had stopped at a pay phone and called Watty, then got back in her car to head to the place he'd told her about. River Road had no street lights and few houses, so she could see the clear dark sky and the stars. She had been crying since she'd driven away from the house and she breathed in deeply, trying to settle her nerves. She glanced in the rearview mirror, brushing away the tears, and that's when she noticed the car lights behind her. This was a pretty deserted road, so the presence of another car, especially one that seemed so close, was unnerving. She sped up a little and the car behind her kept pace. Her heart started beating hard. _Is someone trying to carjack me? Is it some drunk under the influence? Some kid just driving too close?_ She wished the road was more than a two lane road and that the guardrails weren't so close. She wanted to pull over and let the other car pass.

Suddenly the car was right behind her, turning its bright lights on. She made a strangled noise in her throat. She was terrified now. When the car tapped her bumper she screamed. She kept looking from the mirror to the road in front of her and then all of a sudden she saw guardrail and, in that split second, realized she was going to crash. All she could think about was her girls as the car behind her rammed into her and pushed her forward. Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_**1983**_

Rayna couldn't believe the sun was shining on such a sad day. It had rained the day her father had come home and told her and Tandy their mom had died. It had rained every day since until the day of the funeral. It felt wrong. _The whole world should be sad._

She heard the minister speaking but she wasn't paying attention to the words. She wanted to cry, but her father had told her to be brave, so she was trying. She slid her hand into Tandy's and her sister looked down at her, giving her a tiny smile as she squeezed her hand. She heard the beating of bird wings and looked up at the blue sky, squinting against the sun as she watched the flock of birds fly over the trees, as though they were taking her mom with them.

Her heart hurt. _I miss Mom._ She couldn't believe she'd never see her again. Her father had been cold and distant, ever since he'd sat them down and told them about the accident. His voice had been flat and emotionless and his eyes looked like the light had gone out of them. He'd mostly been shut up in his library ever since. When she had tried to approach him, he had told her to leave him alone, almost angrily.

She stared off into the distance, feeling like nothing would ever be the same again. She thought back to her mom leaving that night, and then never coming home. She sighed. She hadn't tried out for the solo in choir the next day, obviously. Without her mom to sing to, she wasn't sure it really mattered anymore anyway.

* * *

She stood with Tandy and her father until the cemetery workers had lowered the casket into the ground and then covered it with dirt. Her chest hurt, she wanted to cry so bad, but she didn't want to make her father angry, so she concentrated on her breathing, pushing her sorrow farther and farther down.

It was something she'd taught herself to keep from letting her emotions get the best of her. The girls at school teased her about her love of country music, something that always surprised her since it was all around them. She had learned, from her mom, that it was mainly tourists who loved country music. Nashville natives shunned it mostly, preferring to spend their time on the symphony and other more cultural pursuits. _It's like we have to prove to the outside world that we're civilized and not backwoods, barefoot hooligans,_ her mom always said.

And then there were the boys. She had grown four inches in a year and was taller than some and the same height as many, but more distressingly, she had developed breasts and she hated how boys stared at them. Of course they also called her 'hillbilly carrot head' and that hurt too. Her mom had told her not to pay attention to them, that she would grow into her height and body soon enough, and that the day would come when other girls would covet her beautiful hair and her long legs. She also told Rayna that when she was a country music star one day, she'd have the last laugh.

She kept breathing in and out and slowly her chest stopped hurting and she felt more in control. She snuck a peek at her father. He still looked angry, his face hard and stiff, but she knew she'd seen a hint of sadness in his eyes, when he thought no one was looking. She reached for his hand then. He glanced down at her, his eyes like steel, and set his jaw, but she felt comforted by the fact that his hand closed around hers. She felt safe then.

* * *

They rode home in silence. Rayna sat in the backseat with her father and Tandy sat up front. Rayna stared out the side window as they drove along the quiet roads of Belle Meade. The car turned into the driveway and she couldn't help but think that now life had to go on. She would go back to school and things would be as they had always been. Except that her mom wouldn't be there anymore. When she came home from school, she wouldn't be waiting in the sitting room. There would be no more drives out to the river or for a girls' lunch on the weekend. She felt like crying again, so she breathed in.

When the car stopped, her father opened his door and walked swiftly up to the house, without a glance back. Rayna jumped out of her side and tried to follow him. "Daddy!" she called out, but as soon as she walked through the front door, her father firmly shut the door to his study and she knew he had also shut her out. She stood in the hall, staring at the door, feeling all alone.

She felt Tandy's arm around her shoulder then and looked up at her sister. "He just needs some time, I think," Tandy said, giving her sister a tired smile. "I know there's a ton of food in the kitchen. Let's go make a sandwich."

Rayna shrugged off Tandy's arm. "I'm really not hungry," she said, and then ran across the foyer and up the stairs. When she got to her room, she threw herself across her bed. She wanted to cry, but she was afraid if she started, she'd never stop. Now that everything was behind them, the funeral service, the burial, the three of them were going to have to go on without her. She wasn't even sure what that was going to look like, but it felt like the light had gone out in the house forever. Like there would be no laughter, no happiness, no music, ever again.

* * *

 _Rayna found her mom sitting in the back den, listening to music. "Hey, Mom," she said, tossing her backpack on one of the chairs._

 _Virginia looked up and smiled. "Hey there, sweet girl," she said. "How was your day?"_

 _Rayna shrugged, coming around to sit on the couch next to her mother. "Okay."_

 _Virginia pulled her close, resting her head on her daughter's and rubbing her arm. "Well, you're home now. Why don't you sing something for me? And play your guitar?"_

 _Virginia had given her a guitar for her last birthday and arranged for lessons, but Rayna had felt incompetent on the instrument. The strings hurt her fingers and she struggled with anything more than the most basic chords. She sighed. "I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to play that guitar," she said._

" _Oh, sweetie, it just takes time and practice." She took Rayna's chin in her fingers and smiled at her. "And if you're not that good, you can always find yourself a handsome guitar player to back you up."_

 _That got a small smile from Rayna. "Well, that may be what I have to do. Or just play the piano."_

" _Will you sing for me though? I love to hear you sing, sweetie." Rayna smiled and nodded. Virginia inclined her head towards the door. "Run get the guitar. You know I don't care if you miss a few chords."_

" _Okay." Rayna jumped up and ran out of the room, across the foyer and up the stairs. When she got to her room, she picked up the guitar and hurried back down to the den. When she got back, her mom was sitting in one of the wingback chairs, waiting expectantly. Rayna sat on the couch and arranged the guitar on her lap. She tried a few chords, frowning at first, then figured out what she was looking for and started to haltingly play. She chose the song her mom loved the most, one she'd grown to love as well._

" _I don't know why I keep on believing you need me / When you've proved so many times that it ain't true / And I can't find one good reason for staying / Maybe my leaving would be the best for you_

 _But these rose colored glasses / That I'm looking through / Show only the beauty / 'Cause they hide all the truth…."_

"Rayna?" Rayna lifted her head when she heard her name, realizing she'd been deep into her memories. She rolled over and sat up, looking at Tandy standing in the doorway. "You okay?" Tandy asked, looking concerned. Rayna couldn't hold it in anymore and started to cry. Tandy ran over and hopped on the bed, pulling her into a tight embrace, murmuring over her. "Ah, sweetie, it's okay," she whispered as she rocked Rayna back and forth.

* * *

Tandy came back with a damp washcloth and handed it to her sister. Rayna wiped her face and then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice still thick with sorrow.

Tandy sat down on the bed. "Oh, Rayna, honey, it's okay," she said, reaching out to pat Rayna's knee. "Mom's only been gone a few days."

Rayna looked up at her. "How come you're not crying? You seem fine."

Tandy raised her eyebrows. "Oh, Rayna, I am very definitely not fine," she said. "You don't know it, but I save all my tears for when I'm in bed by myself and I cry myself to sleep at night." She crawled over the bed and settled in next to her sister, putting an arm around her. "I miss her too. I miss her so much it makes my stomach hurt."

Rayna looked over at her and saw tears glistening in the corners of Tandy's eyes. "It feels like we're all alone, Tandy," she said, a lump forming in her throat.

Tandy put her other arm around Rayna and pulled her closer. "We're not alone. We have each other." She pressed her lips against the hair on the top of Rayna's head. "You and me against the world," she said quietly.

 _ **1984**_

It had been hard, going back to school, trying to get back into a normal rhythm. Lamar was spending more time at the office and out of town, throwing himself back into work. Rayna imagined he was covering up his sorrow by staying busy. He still seemed to shut himself off from both her and Tandy, though, not coming home for dinner and staying closed up in his home office when he was at the house. She found him there late one night, when the door was open, and she walked in hesitantly.

"Daddy?" she said softly, coming up behind him.

He turned slightly to face her, setting down the tumbler of bourbon on the side table. His face was impassive and drawn, and it seemed there was no life in his eyes. "What are you doing up, Rayna?" he asked.

She stood there, her hands clasped in front of her. "I couldn't sleep," she said. She stepped a little closer.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. It scared her a little, how cold his gaze was. "You shouldn't be up," he muttered. "You have school tomorrow."

She took a deep breath. "Could I stay home tomorrow? Everyone just stares at me at school."

He scowled then and she caught her breath. "No," he said angrily. "You're not going to hide away, do you understand? You need to just walk in with your head up. You're a Wyatt, Rayna. We don't show our emotions. We're strong and resilient." He sat up and she felt a little frightened, taking a step backwards. "I'm not going to coddle you like your mother did. You need to show how strong you are. You hear me?" His voice got a little louder towards the end.

She wanted to cry, but she did as he told her and she breathed in, trying to keep all those emotions inside. "Yes, sir," she whispered finally, and then she turned and hurried out of the room.

* * *

As the weeks and months went by, Rayna did as her father told her, and ignored the kids at school. Or tried to. Eventually they left her alone, finding new fodder for their teasing. She felt herself withdrawing from everyone and everything. Everything except music. She hadn't been to her guitar lessons since her mother died, a little afraid to bring it up to her father. So she practiced in her room, although she was still frustrated at how hard it was. She listened to her mother's vinyl records and the mix tapes she'd found in one of the cabinets out in the back den.

She found the tape her mother had played for her months earlier, the one she would beg her to play often. The song that had haunted her the first time she'd heard it was still one of her favorites. _Wayfaring Stranger._

 _I am a poor wayfaring stranger / I'm traveling through this world of woe / Yet there's no sickness, toil, or danger / In that bright world to which I go_

 _I'm going there to see my father / I'm going there no more to roam / I'm only going over Jordan / I'm only going over home_

She'd played it over and over again until she had learned the words and now she tried putting some guitar chords to her vocals. She still wasn't happy with the guitar work, but she just sang a little louder.

"What song is that?" She stopped singing and turned towards the door, where Tandy stood.

Rayna breathed in. "Wayfaring Stranger." She set aside the guitar, then got up and walked over to the tape player, turning it off. She turned back to look at her sister. "It was Mom's," she said quietly.

Tandy raised her eyebrows. "You had it all this time?"

Rayna nodded her head. "I found a bunch of her tapes in the back den. I guess she kept them there, since Daddy never goes out there."

Tandy walked into the room and perched on the edge of Rayna's bed, smiling at her. "You have such a beautiful voice, Rayna," she said. She took a deep breath and then her eyes got sad. "I miss singing with Mom, you know?"

Rayna went to sit next to her sister, taking one of her hands. "I do too."

"Why did you stop taking guitar lessons?"

Rayna shrugged. "I think Daddy forgot."

Tandy smiled. "I'm going to take you then." She winked. "You'll need to be able to play the guitar on stage when you're a big star." She leaned in and peered into Rayna's eyes. "That's still your plan, right?"

"I don't know." Rayna shrugged and looked away.

Tandy reached out and put her index finger under Rayna's chin and turned her face towards her. "Oh, sweetie, you have to. Mom would want you to."

Rayna raised her eyebrows. "You think so?"

Tandy nodded. "I know so." She moved then to sit back against the pillows along Rayna's headboard. She waved her hand at her sister. "Sing for me," she said with a smile.

Rayna felt a thrill inside, glad to have the chance to sing for someone and not just alone. She reached for her guitar, more for support than for anything else, but managed to play a few chords as she sang.

 _Rollin' with the flow / Going where the lonely go / Anywhere the lights are low / Going where the lonely go_

 _Making up things to do / Not running in all directions, trying to find you / I'm just rollin' with the flow / Going where the lonely go…._

* * *

She had heard the argument. Her heart was breaking for them both. She knew her sister thought their father was just angry, lashing out at her with fury, but she knew different. He was in pain just like the rest of them, it was just that his pain was mixed with his broken heart and he didn't know how to respond with anything but anger.

 _Rayna was in her room, as she often was after school, practicing on her guitar and singing to accompany herself. Tandy had made good on her promise to take her sister for lessons and it had given her great satisfaction to see the joy it had brought to Rayna. Tandy knew Rayna was struggling – still – with their mom's death, even now, nearly a year later. She'd always thought it was their mom who'd held Rayna so close, trying to counterbalance the father-daughter bond Rayna had always had with Lamar. Tandy had watched the dynamic with a pragmatic eye, often feeling like their mom thought she was on the outside looking in._

 _Maybe she'd just missed it, that closeness between their mom and Rayna. She had certainly been caught up in high school things – cheerleading, debate team, student council – and she wasn't home to watch it. Seeing how devastated Rayna was after their mom's death, she had come to realize that it was a bond forged from necessity. Rayna was the one who was at home and she also shared that love of music. So Tandy had promised Rayna – and their mom – that she would make sure her little sister lived her dream._

 _But their father had come home early and she had heard him walk down the hall, his footsteps heavy and purposeful. "What in the hell are you doing, Rayna?" she heard him say, his voice loud and angry. She had jumped up from her bed, where she was doing homework, and had padded quickly and quietly to her own door, which was cracked slightly, and listened._

 _The music had stopped. "Practicing, Daddy," she heard Rayna say._

" _I don't want to hear that hillbilly music in this house, young lady," he said._

" _It's not hillbilly music, Daddy," Rayna cried. "It's country music! Johnny Cash and Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline and John Conlee."_

" _It doesn't belong in this house, Rayna," he said firmly._

" _Mom liked it." Rayna sounded stubborn then. "She listened to it all the time."_

 _He didn't respond at first. "Should I take away those records you have?" he finally said, his voice low and dangerous sounding. "Because I will. At least your mother had the decency to keep it out of my hearing."_

" _Daddy, please," Rayna begged. Tandy decided he must have walked into the room then, because she heard Rayna cry out in alarm. "Don't take those, Daddy! They're all I have left!" She wondered if he'd made good on his threat to take the albums._

" _I won't have you disobeying me, Rayna," he said sharply._

 _There was a moment of silence. "I don't care!" Tandy was surprised to hear Rayna speak out like she was. "That's the kind of music I like and I'll listen to it anyway. You can't stop me! Mom wouldn't tell me to stop!"_

She waited and then she heard her father's footsteps and the door slam. She jumped back a little, so he wouldn't see her at the door. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, feeling her heart racing. She didn't hear anything from Rayna's room, so after she heard the door to her father's room slam shut, she ventured out and down to her sister's room.

Rayna's door was open and she saw her sister sitting on her bed, her mouth in a firm line and her fists clenched on her thighs. She stepped in and Rayna looked up at her. "What did he take?" she asked.

Rayna's face collapsed then and tears started to roll down her cheeks. "My records. _Mom's_ records," she said. "The ones she always listened to. The ones _we_ listened to." She lowered her head and Tandy could see her shoulders shaking. She hurried over and sat down next to Rayna, putting her arm around her.

"He'll give them back, I'm sure," she said, trying to soothe her sister.

Rayna sat up and looked at her, her eyes flashing angrily. "I don't care," she said. "I'll just find another way." She breathed out. "I hate him."

"Oh, sweetie, no, he's Daddy," Tandy protested. "He's all we have now."

Rayna shook her head and then Tandy saw sadness in her sister's eyes. "I miss Mom," Rayna sobbed. "I miss her every day. She wouldn't let him do this to me. She knew how much music means to me." She swiped at the tears on her face. "Why did she have to leave us, Tandy? Why is she gone? I miss her so much."

Tandy breathed in and then she pulled her sister into an embrace. She decided she wouldn't tell Rayna what she'd found, the letters and journals Virginia Wyatt had left behind, detailing her unhappiness in her marriage and the love she'd found with a singer/songwriter and musician named Watty White. From what she could tell, their mom had carried on a years' long affair, finding solace in someone else's arms. It had made Tandy wonder about all the times she had left the house, at odd hours, or seemed almost giddy and breathless at times.

Once in a while she'd thought she'd detected a man's cologne on Virginia, only it hadn't been their father's. But she'd dismissed it as her imagination. Now she realized it probably hadn't been. She thought back to the day she'd found all those letters and journals. Although it had saddened her to learn of their mom's affair, it also explained so much. The arguments behind closed doors, the times Virginia seemed distant and withdrawn, the lack of family warmth, how withdrawn Lamar became. It all made sense.

As she held onto her sister, though, she knew she wouldn't tell her about their mom's secret life. If she was honest with herself, it had hurt – deeply – to learn of their mom's deception. It had changed things for her in certain ways. She understood Lamar's pain now, or believed she did. He'd known about the affair and he probably felt anger, hurt, and bitterness. There would never be any resolution for him, no way to fix things, and she realized the two of them were constant reminders of her.

She had gained some understanding, though, about Virginia's motivations. How unhappy she must have been. That much was obvious from what she'd written. She wondered who this Watty was, this man who'd clearly made their mother so happy. It made her sad to read about her longing for him and yet how torn she was about what that meant for her family, specifically her daughters. She felt conflicted too, realizing how hard it had been for her mom, but the impact it had had on her dad. And now she was gone and they were left with a damaged man, hurt to the core by his wife's actions.

She hugged Rayna a little tighter and promised to herself that she would always protect Rayna and protect her memories of their mother. She would shoulder that knowledge and keep it to herself. There was no need for Rayna to be disappointed too.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: This is Rayna's story, but I've added Tandy's perspective here, because it provides a lot of context for what happens later in Rayna's life.**_

 _ **1986**_

Rayna was sitting on the back steps with her notebook. She heard footsteps behind her and, closing her notebook, she looked back over her shoulder. "Hey, Cole," she said with a smile. Cole was the son of their longtime housekeeper Vernice and had practically grown up with her and Tandy.

Cole smiled broadly and came to sit next to her. "Hey, Rayna," he said. "What you doing?"

She shrugged. "Just some writing," she said.

"You sounded great at the choir recital the other night," he said. "Too bad your daddy wasn't there."

She made a face. "Daddy's never there," she said.

"Well, he missed out. You were amazing." He looked around, then leaned in and lowered his voice. "You still thinking about doing those open mics?" he asked.

She smiled. "Yes. Tandy said she'd take me. There's actually one at this place way out on River Road, called the V Tavern. They do an open mic on Mondays, just like the Bluebird does. But I can sing anything I want there."

He frowned. "You can't at the Bluebird?"

She shook her head. "You have to write your own music to sing at the Bluebird." She patted her notebook. "I'm working on that, but songwriting is _hard_." She sighed. "I'm wondering if I'll _ever_ come up with something."

He smiled. "You will. You're always writing poems."

She leaned over, wrapping her arms around her legs. "They're so childish," she said, with a frown. "I need to polish them up. Or find someone to help me." She sighed. "Just like I need a guitar player, since I'm so awful." She looked over at him. "I need to come up with a look."

"A look?" He looked confused.

"You know. Do I wear a skirt or jeans? Boots or not?" She ran one hand through her hair. "Curls or straightened? It's a big deal."

He laughed and shrugged. "I guess." He looked out over the lawn, then back at her. "Tandy taking you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. She took me to that place in Gallatin a couple weeks ago." She wrinkled her nose. "Broken Spoke, I think. So now I have one under my belt. I hope there's more people at the V Tavern though."

"What are you singing?"

"Rose Colored Glasses for sure. I don't care if they think it's too old. It's my favorite. And Have Mercy. They liked that one at the last place, 'cause it's the Judds." She rolled her eyes. Having to please a crowd was hard too.

He looked concerned. "Does your daddy know you're doing this?"

She sat up straight and frowned. "No!" she cried. "And you better not tell him, Coleman Carlisle."

He sat back in surprise. "No, of course I wouldn't tell him. Just be careful, Rayna. You know it doesn't take much to set him off. Plus he always seems to know things, even when you'd think he wouldn't."

She breathed out. "I know. And I only go when he's out of town." She sighed. "I wish he understood how important this is to me."

"You still think you can make a living doing this?"

She smiled to herself. "I want to." She turned to look at him. "My dream is to stand on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry and get invited to be a member. You have to be something really special to get invited, you know. Songs on the radio, touring, be someone people like." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't care about making a lot of money, I just want to be on stage and sing and make people happy."

He smiled back at her. "I bet you'll do all of that one day, Rayna. You'll be a star as soon as you hit the stage."

She laughed. "You don't know anything about country music, Cole. It's hard work to get to be a star. A lot of honky tonks and going anywhere they'll pay you. Rodeos and county fairs and festivals." She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. "One day I want to have my own booth at Fan Fare and I'll sign autographs and take pictures as long as people will stand there." She looked back at him. "I'll be the nicest performer there is, I can promise you that. I think that's what's so great about country music. Everyone is so nice. But I'll be the nicest."

He nodded his head vigorously. "I do believe you will be, Rayna Wyatt. The very nicest of all."

* * *

When Tandy and Rayna ran down the front steps to the driveway, Rayna frowned. "You have to put the top up, Tandy," she said, when she saw her sister's convertible.

Tandy turned and pouted. "But it's such a nice night. You sure?" she asked.

"My hair. I don't want my hair to get all windblown. I worked hard to get it to do this." Rayna ran one hand over her hair. She'd spent half an hour with a round brush and a hairdryer smoothing her hair into a pert bob. Her hair was naturally wavy and she knew the wind from riding in an open car would undo everything she'd just done.

Tandy shrugged. "Well, I for one think your hair looks adorable when you let it go natural, but if this is what you want, okay. But I'm going to insist we put the top down on the way home."

Rayna smiled and put her guitar in the back seat. "Thank you!" she cried, jumping into the front seat. Tandy sighed and then got in on the driver's side, putting the top up before she tore down the driveway.

Since it was the first of the week, Rayna had not expected much of a crowd, but apparently out in Cheatham County there wasn't much else to do but go hang out in bars, so the place was mostly full, even considering it was an open mic night. There were nine other performers there that night and she was right in the middle of the pack. She and Tandy sat at one of the tables near the side of the stage and had hamburgers while they watched the other performers.

As they listened to a rough looking blonde, Tandy leaned over and whispered to Rayna, "Not only are you a much better singer than she is, but you're much prettier."

Rayna blushed. "You think so?"

Tandy nodded. "I know so."

Rayna ran her tongue over her teeth, feeling for any bits of food that might have gotten stuck. She leaned over to her sister. "Do I have any food in my teeth?" she asked, pulling back her lips so Tandy could look at her teeth.

Tandy shook her head and smiled. "Perfect."

When it was finally her turn, Rayna felt the butterflies in her stomach she always felt when she sang in front of a crowd. She wondered if that would ever go away. She took her guitar and walked up onto the tiny stage. As she opened the case and took out her guitar, she was glad she'd decided on wearing a skirt. All the other female performers were wearing jeans and she thought she might catch more attention since she had dressed differently. She had put on and taken off four different outfits before deciding on the denim skirt and pink gingham check blouse and her red boots. Tandy had given her the boots for Christmas, something that had made Lamar's lip curl, which just added to the appeal.

She turned and walked up to the mic and smiled at the crowd. "Hey, y'all, my name is Rayna…Jaymes." She still stumbled over that, even after saying in front of her mirror over and over. It had been Tandy's idea, not using the name Wyatt. _People know who Daddy is and you just never know what might get around._ Tandy was right. Lamar had no idea she was doing this and she knew he'd be furious if he did. Even though their mom's family had been an old money family in Nashville, the name wasn't as widely known. She glanced at Tandy, who was smiling and clapping proudly. She got a good reception from the crowd in the room, even hearing a few catcalls, which made her nervous. She leaned into the mic. "I'm gonna sing 'Rose Colored Glasses'."

* * *

 _Well, I went up to the bank with my little check book / The cashier he gave me the strangest look / He said you ain't got no money 'cause you're overdrawn / Your man took it all and he's done gone_

 _Have mercy on me / You treat me so bad I'm in misery / It's breaking my heart, can't you see / Baby, baby, have mercy on me_

 _Have mercy on me / You treat me so bad I'm in misery / It's breaking my heart, can't you see / Baby, baby, have mercy on me_

 _Have mercy_

When she finished, she got a rousing round of applause, with some cheering as well. She smiled at the crowd and waved, feeling something wash over her that made her feel like she had just found her true calling. _This is what it's about. Standing in front of people, singing songs you love, letting them see that. This is what I'm meant to do._ She knew it as much as she'd ever known anything in her life. She had been nervous when she started, but the reaction from the crowd had energized her, made her feel like she owned the place.

She finally stepped back from the mic so the next performer could get set up and practically ran down the two steps. She realized when she did that she'd forgotten her guitar case, so she hurried back and laid her guitar in it, shutting it, and then hurrying back to the table where Tandy was sitting.

"Oh, sweetie, you were amazing!" Tandy gushed, grabbing her hands. "They loved you!"

Rayna was practically breathless and put one hand over her heart. "Oh my God, Tandy, that felt so awesome. The other place wasn't like this but this was just unbelievable." She grinned from ear to ear. "This is what I want to do. Be on a stage and sing. No matter how long it takes or what I need to do, I need to be doing this for the rest of my life."

Tandy made a face. "Well, I don't think Daddy will love that," she said.

Rayna frowned. "He's not going to be able to do anything about it," she said defiantly. "It's my life and I'll do what I want."

Tandy leaned over then and patted her hand. "Let's get out of here, Rayna. I need to get you home."

* * *

When Tandy got back to her apartment, she was still worried about her sister. Rayna was definitely headstrong. When she set her mind to something, she was single-minded about it, a lot like their father. She'd always known that about Rayna, how much she was like Lamar Wyatt. It was something Rayna didn't like to acknowledge, but it was true. She was actually the perfect mix of their parents – pragmatic like Lamar yet wearing her heart on her sleeve like Virginia. She felt like it was her job to watch over her sister, to make sure she was okay, make sure their father didn't find out what Rayna was doing when he was away.

If Rayna pushed, she was afraid of what their father might do. He'd withdrawn, in many ways, from them, into his work. He'd always been an intimidating man, but these days he could almost be frightening. He had mostly wiped away all traces of Virginia from their lives, shut down any conversation about her. In the beginning, she'd thought it was grief, but soon enough she'd found out it was anything but.

Tandy fixed herself a cup of tea and then sat down in her living room. She pulled the box she'd gotten from her closet closer to her and took the top off. She sat for a moment, just looking down into it. It was mostly letters and bound journals, but a few other mementos as well. She'd found the box one rainy afternoon when she'd been in the house by herself. It was maybe a year after their mother died and she had ventured into her mother's closet. Lamar had shut the closet and locked it, after the funeral, but it was an old house with easily picked locks, so Tandy had gotten in easily.

Most of the time she'd just touched her mother's clothes, fingering the pretty dresses, and trying on her shoes. Virginia Jaymes had been a celebrated debutante as a young woman and all her beautiful party dresses were still in the closet. Tandy knew that it was at a post-debutante party where her parents had met. Lamar had swept her off her feet, according to newspaper accounts of their courtship that were included in the engagement announcement. But then she'd found that box tucked away, as though Virginia had hidden it there. There were several photo albums and a scrapbook, filled with pictures of a young Virginia. In her engagement photo, she'd looked happy, and that had made Tandy wonder when that had changed.

She wondered if her father had known about the non-descript box that had been hidden back behind a shoe rack. Not much missed Lamar Wyatt's eye, so she suspected he'd always known the secrets the box contained, if not the actual existence of it.

What had fascinated – and horrified – her the most had been the letters and journals. And the music. The journals started when Rayna was a toddler and detailed the secret life Virginia led, in honky tonks on Broadway and back rooms where a lot of the music of the day was written. She'd been lonely, since her husband had been married to his work even then, but she'd also been bored and unhappy. The life of the wife to an important man was unfulfilling and stifling, something that surprised her when she read it. She had felt sadness for her mom, though, trapped in a life she could no longer bear but not knowing how to break free of.

But then came the first mention of a man, a musician and a songwriter, a man who spoke to her creative heart at first and then to her real heart in short order. A man named Watty. The man who wrote the letters Virginia had saved. Letters filled with words of love and adoration, song lyrics written especially for her, and mentions of the secret, and intimate, life they'd shared for so long, up until she died.

She pulled out one of the journals, opening it indiscriminately, reading again a passage she'd already read what felt like a hundred times. _I wish I had the courage to leave._ _Watty feeds my soul, in a way Lamar never could. But when I think of leaving, I hesitate, and I don't know why. Maybe the scale hasn't tipped enough yet. I need Watty though, like my lungs need air, like my veins need blood. I feel alive with him, in a way I've never felt before. When he touches my skin, presses his lips to mine, takes me in his arms, and makes the sweetest love to me, I am lost._

Tandy closed the journal and closed her eyes. Reading her mother's most secret thoughts had been a revelation. It had made her feel like she'd never known her mother, really. It had left her feeling a little unmoored, in the beginning. She had started to make her peace with it, but it helped her to understand a little more how her father felt about country music and, by extension, Rayna's obsession with it. This Watty person was a country songwriter and musician and had, if not stolen Virginia from him, taken a part of her away. It made her both sad for her father and curious what had prompted her mother to stray. Questions she'd never have the answers to, she knew.

She had promised herself she would never tell Rayna about this. Her sister still worshipped their mother and she would never tell her anything that might tarnish her memories. She sensed that Rayna needed to keep seeing Virginia the way she had as a young girl, at least for as long as she could.

* * *

Rayna was sitting outside on the patio with her guitar and her notebook, trying to come up with her own original song. She knew that eventually she would need to have her own music or even work with someone to create her own music. She couldn't sing old songs forever and she really wanted something that felt a little more like it fit her. She'd spent weeks on it, writing and rewriting, over and over, and had only, finally, come up with one verse. She was trying out a melody she heard in her head as she read the words, but she was frustrated at how difficult the process seemed to be. She really wished she had someone who could help her, guide her, teach her how to do this.

 _Aren't we all the same? / Hearts with different names / All looking for a place / We can be who we are, and know who we are_

 _Don't we all deserve / A moment to be heard? / Don't we all have words / That show who we are / 'Cause we know who we are_

She stopped, looking down at her notebook again.

"What is that nonsense, Rayna?" came her father's voice from behind her, sounding stern.

She turned around, startled, because he wasn't due home until the next day. She took a deep breath. "It's a song I'm working on, Daddy," she said.

He frowned. "I thought I told you that kind of music was off-limits," he said, getting a little louder.

She felt nervous, but she wasn't going to show him that she was scared. She sat up straight. "It's the kind of music I like, Daddy," she said, with a confidence she didn't completely feel. "I'm trying to write my own songs."

He shook his head. "This is just foolishness, young lady," he said angrily. "Not only is that kind of music not welcome in this house, but this whole ridiculous idea you have of singing on stage is just not the kind of thing a Wyatt would do."

She frowned. "That's not true, Daddy. Mom loved country music and I would sing with her all the time."

He took a step towards her and she winced. "She only did that when I wasn't here," he practically shouted. "And she knew how I felt about it. I'm telling you, Rayna, do not cross me on this. You will _not_ pursue this. You'll finish high school, go to college, and get a decent job."

She stood up then, angry herself. "What if that isn't what _I_ want?" she cried. "I want to follow my dream, Daddy, not work in some stupid office all day. I'd be bored! And unfulfilled."

He laughed then, an unkind sound. "What in the world could you possibly know about being fulfilled, Rayna? You're fifteen years old. You have no idea what lies ahead for you and you'll change your mind a hundred times, in any case." He shook a finger towards her. "As long as you live in my house, you will follow my rules, young lady. Do you understand me?" She said nothing, just stood and stared at him defiantly. He took another step closer and, although she was shaking inside, she stood firm. "Do you understand me?"

She drew herself up. "I understand you, but that doesn't mean I'll follow your rules," she said.

He gave her a chilly smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Then you will find out the price you pay for defying me, young lady. Mark my words, you'll live to regret the day you go against me." He turned and walked back into the house.

She felt herself shaking and frowned. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. _I don't care what he says. I'm following my dream, no matter what._


	4. Chapter 4

_**1987**_

Tandy walked into Rayna's room. Rayna was standing at her floor length mirror, looking at her reflection. Tandy put her hands on her sister's shoulders and smiled. "You look beautiful, Rayna," she said.

Rayna rolled her eyes. "I wish we didn't have to go to this," she said. It was the night of the annual Symphony Gala, something their mom had been passionate about for as long as the girls could remember. She turned to face her sister.

Tandy frowned. "But you've always loved this, sweetie," she said. "You love to dress up and go to the ball. Remember?" She tried smiling.

Rayna closed her eyes and shook her head. Then she sighed and looked back at Tandy. "Well, I don't anymore," she said. "Not when I have to do this but Daddy tells me I can't do my own music." She picked at a thread on the bodice of her dress. "It's just not fair, Tandy."

Tandy put her arm around Rayna's shoulders. "It's not like you're actually obeying Daddy," she said, lowering her voice.

Rayna looked at her, feeling dejected. "Maybe, but what's it getting me? I'm still doing these stupid open mics and nobody is listening." She turned back to the mirror and picked at her hair. She'd let her hair grow out and it was just brushing against the tops of her shoulders and was more wavy than curly these days. She pulled out one of the rhinestone studded hair combs and rearranged it in her hair.

"That's not true, Rayna," Tandy said. "There are lots of people who hear you."

Rayna turned to look at her and frowned. "I'm talking about people who can get me noticed, Tandy. Like record producers or label heads or even just someone who can get me regular gigs where I can actually make money."

"But I thought this was what you wanted."

Rayna threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. "To _start_ ," she said, feeling exasperated. "I don't want to do this forever."

"Do what forever?" Suddenly their father was at the door and both girls turned to look at him. Rayna felt a quiver of fear in her stomach, wondering how much he might have heard.

Tandy walked over and smoothed down the lapel on Lamar's tuxedo, even though it didn't need it. "I _think_ Rayna might be feeling like she's too old to be a princess at the ball," she said teasingly, as she looked back at Rayna.

Lamar laughed softly. "You'll always be the princess at the ball, darlin'," he said. He looked at her appreciatively. "And a very pretty one, as always." He got a wistful look on his face then. "Your mama would be very proud of you two girls."

Rayna felt the same lump in her throat she always did when her father mentioned Virginia or even when she just thought about her. It had been four years and she still missed her terribly. It had been hard, growing up without her mother to guide her. Tandy had helped, but it wasn't the same. And Tandy was busy with college and sorority activities and boys, none of the things Rayna was involved with or had a real interest in. "I really miss her," she said softly.

She noticed her father seemed to clench his jaw. Virginia wasn't off-limits anymore, but he still wasn't much for talking about her, which Rayna still didn't understand. But it had been four years and she'd stopped trying to figure it out. She and Tandy could talk about their mother together and that was enough. "Let's go, girls," he said then, his voice a little stiff.

Rayna picked up the shawl she was going to wear around her shoulders and her purse. Lamar had already left the room, but Tandy waited for her. She smiled at her sister. "You _do_ look like a princess, Rayna," she whispered in Rayna's ear. "The belle of the ball." Rayna couldn't help but smile a little. She really did like to dress up.

* * *

Once they were at the gala, Rayna let herself relax. She really did enjoy listening to the music, even though it wasn't her favorite, and she loved the food and watching the dancing. Tandy came back from the restroom and sat down next to her, setting a plate of hors d'oeuvres in front of her. She looked down at the plate and pointed at a round cracker with what looked like cream cheese and some black blob on top. "What is that?" she asked.

Tandy laughed. "Caviar, silly," she said. "Caviar on top of crème fraiche on a very thin blini."

Rayna made a face. "A what?"

Tandy picked hers up. "It's like a teeny tiny pancake." She nudged Rayna's arm. "Try it. I think you'll like it."

Rayna looked at it again and shrugged. Then she picked up the small appetizer and took a bite. It was a crazy mix of flavors, from the wheat taste of the little pancake to the sour cream taste of the whatever Tandy had called it to the saltiness of the caviar. She let it roll around in her mouth for a minute, then swallowed. She looked at her sister. "I think I like it," she said. Then she popped the rest of the appetizer in her mouth.

Tandy laughed. "Caviar is what rich people eat," she said. "So Daddy will be pleased."

Rayna rolled her eyes, but she had to admit to herself she liked the tasty little treat. _So who cares if I have champagne tastes?_ She leaned closer to her sister. "So do you think Daddy's going to give me a car for my birthday?" Her sixteenth birthday was in a month and she was hoping he would. Not only would it give her a measure of freedom but it would mean she wouldn't have to rely on Tandy anymore to take her to open mics.

Tandy nodded. "I'm sure he will. I got one. No reason he wouldn't give you one." She leaned in to her sister's ear. "Plus, he asked me what kind I thought you'd like," she whispered.

Rayna sat back and gasped, a quick smile on her face. She looked around, then leaned back in. "I hope you told him one just like yours," she whispered.

"I did. Only that you wanted one in red." Tandy winked and then Rayna reached in and hugged her.

* * *

Having her own car made life easier. She no longer had to depend on Tandy for rides, although she did miss the opportunity to spend time with her sister. As she headed out to school, she thought about how happy her father had seemed the day he gave it to her. He had smiled, a genuine smile that actually reached his eyes, something she hadn't seen in a long time, since long before her mom had died. It had felt warm and loving, the gesture of handing her the keys and telling her to be careful. But, of course, as always, he'd had to ruin it, by reminding her she had a curfew and how she couldn't go anywhere other than school or to a friend's house or maybe to Tandy's apartment.

" _None of this running around to listen to music or sneaking out to one of those songwriter things," he'd said sternly, his eyes practically boring a hole in her._

 _She had felt a chill run down her spine and a knot in her stomach. She wondered if he knew what she'd been doing._ Had he followed her? Had someone been spying on her? _"I don't know what you mean, Daddy," she'd said, struggling to keep her voice from sounding as shaky as she felt._

" _I know you think now that you have a car, you're free to do whatever you like, but that's not the case, young lady," he said. "And I still don't want you trying to go to a bar or honky tonk or whatever to listen to music or go to unsupervised parties or hang out with boys. I know you'd like to, but you are forbidden to do that."_

 _She let out a silent sigh of relief. Just his general instruction not to go sneaking out of the house. Of course, he didn't really know that she didn't get invited to many parties, supervised or otherwise, and that boys teased her because she liked country music. "I know, Daddy," she said. He turned then and walked back in the house._

She still didn't understand why he was so against her interest in music. It didn't seem to be _all_ music, since he certainly was okay with the Symphony Gala, but he had told her she couldn't play "that damn hillbilly music" in the house and he didn't like to hear her playing her guitar. She really wished she understood, but it seemed to be just one more of those mysteries about Lamar Wyatt. She was, however, looking forward to the end of the school day, when she planned to go to the park and work on her music.

* * *

She was sitting at one of the picnic tables located just off the hiking trail in the front end of the park. She had decided not to bring her guitar after all and just work on lyrics. The guitar case was heavier than it seemed and lugging it up all those steps didn't seem like fun. She had finished the song she'd been working on for months, calling it 'Always Sing'. She wanted badly to do an open mic at the Bluebird, though, so she needed a second song. She'd been working on something for over two months, hoping it didn't take her as long to write as the first one. She looked at her first verse and the chorus she'd written.

 _I didn't know what I would find / When I went lookin' for a reason I know / I didn't read between the lines / And, baby, I've got nowhere to go / I tried to take the road less traveled by / But nothin' seems to work the first few times / Am I right?_

 _So how can I ever try to be better? / Nobody ever lets me in / And I can still see you; this ain't the best view / On the outside, lookin' in / I've been a lot of lonely places / I've never been on the outside_

She was happy with what she had so far. She'd started writing it one night when she'd felt particularly lonely and left out. There was a party going on she hadn't been invited to and it had been another one of those days where she walked down a hallway at school, past a group of her fellow students, and known they were whispering about her. The looks they gave her and how they talking stopped as she approached. She had wanted to run off somewhere and cry, but she had promised herself she wouldn't do that.

She sighed. It wasn't really that she wanted to hang around those students, but it still hurt to be left out. It made her, more than ever, want something to pop with her singing career. Or at least what she hoped would be her singing career. She pulled the current issue of _Nashville Scene_ out of her backpack and started looking for all the open mics around town. She turned to a clean sheet in her notebook and started to write out a schedule, combining what was available with the dates her father would be out of town.

The Bluebird was always on her list, but until she had the two songs complete, that one wouldn't be on her final list. She sighed. The Bluebird was the mecca, for sure. She'd been there twice, just to watch. Tandy had taken her and they had both been impressed with the music. Tandy wasn't as into country music as she was, but she still appreciated good music. Hearing other songwriters was inspiring, but she knew that many of the open mic performers were in Nashville for just that – to write songs. She wanted more. She wanted to be onstage, performing before audiences as large as those who went to concerts at the Municipal Auditorium or at the Tennessee State Fairgrounds during Fan Fair.

The Bluebird would be her launching pad, she was sure. She had daydreamed so often of being discovered while performing on that stage that she knew she'd be disappointed if it didn't happen. Magic happened at the Bluebird Café and she wanted to be part of that. So she flipped back to the previous page in her notebook and started trying to come up with a second verse for her song.

* * *

She was still struggling with her second song, but kept up with open mics around town whenever she could. She had gone to a new artists' night down at a hole-in-the-wall place in Printer's Alley, where she'd played 'Always Sing' plus several covers. It was a young crowd, loud and mostly uninterested in the performers onstage. She had a few catcalls, a few 'show us your boobs' shout outs, but not much else. It had been disappointing, although she had gotten some tips, so she'd come home with a little bit of money in her pocket. But she was feeling discouraged when she finally turned off Harding Pike and headed for home.

She came in through the kitchen and walked out to the foyer, turning for the stairs, when her father's voice rang out. "Rayna, where have you been?"

She froze at first, then slowly turned around. He was standing at the door to the library, glowering at her. She felt a sense of panic. He was supposed to be out of town until the next day. She tried to swallow but her mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Her heart was racing. She took a deep breath as she tried to come up with a plausible story. She cleared her throat. "Studying," she croaked out. "Working on a project for school," she added, making sure her voice was steady.

Lamar's eyes narrowed. "With that guitar?" he asked, sounding as though he didn't believe her.

She shrugged, trying to appear more calm than she felt. "Just had it in my car," she said. "I'd taken it to the park and forgot to bring it in the other day." She let her breath out slowly, pleased at having come up with such a good reason for carrying it.

He stared at her for a long time and she could feel the perspiration on her back. She felt nauseous. "I better not ever catch you going to some…honky tonk and trying to play that thing," he said, a menacing tone to his voice. "You hear me?" All she could do was nod. "I mean it, Rayna. If I ever catch you doing something like that, you'll regret it." He lifted his hand and pointed it at her. "You live in my house, you live by my rules."

She didn't know what made her decide to challenge him then, but she did. "I don't understand why my playing music is such a big deal to you," she said. "You don't have to listen to it. Why do you care what I do?"

An angry look crossed his face. "You are too good for that, Rayna. You come from an important family in Nashville and you have an opportunity to do so much more with your life than panhandle for money in a park downtown like some common lowlife."

She put her hand on her hip. "How do you know I wouldn't be successful? That I wouldn't be able to play on big stages, in front of thousands of people, making good money? Doing something I love. Why are you so against it?"

"It's none of your concern, Rayna, other than to know that I won't have it. You'll go to college, like your sister, and get a good job. Be an asset. You have a good name and I won't see it sullied. The Wyatt name means something in this city and it's not playing hillbilly music." By this time, he'd raised his voice.

"It's not 'hillbilly' music, Daddy. You make it sound like there's something wrong with country music and there's not! I just don't understand why you hate it so much."

"I don't have to tell you my reasons, young lady. You're still a minor child and you live in my house and you'll do as I say as long as you live here. This folly of yours is not up for discussion." He glared at her as if he was challenging her to respond. She could see the vein on his temple beating and she decided to leave it alone.

"Yes, sir," she answered, keeping her voice steady but defiant. He looked at her for another moment, then turned and went back in the library. She breathed a sigh of relief and ran up the stairs and down the hall to her room.

* * *

While she waited for her sister, Rayna plucked at the guitar again, wincing each time the strings cut into her fingers. She wanted to be able to play the guitar – because it was her mom's wish for her – but the idea of callouses gave her pause. She hated being so vain, because she did truly believe you had to suffer for your music, but she wanted soft hands and she wanted pretty nails and it was hard to have that and play good guitar. That much she had figured out.

She took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves, but it felt impossible. It almost felt like when she'd overdone it at Thanksgiving dinner and she was stuffed all the way to her throat. It was hard to breathe normally and the butterflies in her stomach were making her a little nauseous. In fact, she kind of wanted to throw up, but she was afraid to even do that, in case it meant she wouldn't be able to get on the stage. She put the guitar back in the case then and stood up.

As she looked up and out towards Hillsboro Pike, she saw her sister drive in, her top down and her hair fluttering around her face. That made her feel better and she smiled to herself. She watched as Tandy parked and got out of her car. She waved excitedly as Tandy approached and her sister smiled. "Oh, my God, Tandy, I'm so glad you're here," she squealed.

Tandy reached for a hug. "You're making your debut at the Bluebird. I wouldn't miss it," she said. "Are you unbelievably excited?"

Rayna nodded vigorously. "Excited. And nervous. And sick to my stomach. All at the same time."

Tandy laughed. "You'll be fine, sweetie." She stepped back and looked Rayna up and down. "You look perfect." Rayna had chosen a denim skirt and a sleeveless t-shirt with the Bluebird logo on it that she'd bought the last time she'd been there. She had on her favorite red boots and had worked, yet again, to straighten her unruly waves into a more sleek bob. She had on her dragonfly necklace, the one her mom had given to her on the last birthday she'd had before she died. She had always felt like that kept her mom close and she hoped it gave her strength and confidence that night.

Rayna took a deep breath and then picked up her guitar case. "Well, I guess I need to get in and get ready." She put an arm around Tandy's neck and hugged her again. "Thank you for coming," she said, feeling a little teary all of a sudden.

* * *

It felt like it was over in a second. She had been the tenth one out on stage and she'd felt seriously intimidated by the performers who'd gone out ahead of her. They had all seemed so polished and their songs had seemed so amazing, so nuanced and grown up and full of beautiful words and melodies and deep emotions. She felt like hers were exactly what they were – little girl songs written by a sixteen year old. But they were all she had and there was nothing to do but sing them. And so she had.

It had felt almost overwhelming, standing on the Bluebird stage. She had dreamed of it for so long and it did not disappoint. She stood on the stage, her guitar in her hands, and just looked out at the crowd for a second. Her eyes lighted on Tandy, who was beaming at her, and that helped to settle her nerves. She couldn't focus really on anyone else in the room, too afraid she wouldn't be able to open her mouth. It wasn't like it was a big place with a lot of people – there were quite a few empty seats – but it was the atmosphere and the legend of it that made her feel simultaneously insignificant and part of something very special.

When she finished, the applause had been enthusiastic and there had even been some cheering. She couldn't stop smiling, even after she walked off the stage. She and Tandy stayed for a few more of the performers, then sneaked out at intermission, since she still had homework to do.

"How did that feel?" Tandy asked excitedly, as they walked across the parking lot.

Rayna was practically dancing at that point. "Oh, my God, Tandy, it was unbelievable! I mean, I've stood on a stage before and sang in front of people, but this was the Bluebird and it was amazing! I so want to do that again."

Tandy put her arm around her sister's shoulders. "You were a natural, Rayna. I can see you doing that again and again. And maybe one day getting to be that big star you want to be."

Rayna shook her head. "Not maybe, Tandy, I'm _definitely_ gonna do it. Just watch. I'll be the Queen of Country Music one day. That's my goal."

Tandy smiled. "I know you can do anything you put your mind to, sweetheart. I would not bet against you." They had gotten to Rayna's car and stopped. "So will you try again here?"

Rayna nodded. "Yes. Every chance I can get. This is a place where all the important label people come, so maybe someone will see me and want to sign me."

Tandy frowned. "But you still have two years of school left, Rayna."

Rayna shrugged. "I don't care. If someone wants to sign me, I'll quit school."

"Oh, no, sweetie, you can't do that. School is important."

Rayna rolled her eyes. "To you and Daddy it's important. But I don't need a college degree to be a singer. Or a high school diploma, for that matter."

"But you're not ready to be on your own. How would you make money? Or rent an apartment? Or buy food?"

Rayna thought about that. "Why couldn't I still live at home?"

"Well, maybe you could, but you know how Daddy is about school. And your music."

Rayna raised her eyebrows. "I don't really care. He'll get over it." She wasn't nearly as confident as she tried to sound, but she also knew this was what she wanted, and she was just as determined to have it as it seemed her father was to keep her from it. She didn't intend to give up on her dream though.

Tandy put her hand on Rayna's arm. "Well, I know you need to get home," she said. "I'll see you Sunday."

Rayna watched as her sister walked off to her own car and then sighed. She opened the car door and slid her guitar case in, then got in the driver's side. As she pulled out onto Hillsboro Pike, and the sun was setting in the sky, she thought again about standing on the stage of the Bluebird, singing her songs, and a thrill ran through her. Even if her songs weren't the best or the most polished, she was still doing what she loved and she was sure she'd get better as time went on.

* * *

Rayna got in her car and headed for the Bluebird. It was a short drive and she found a parking place fairly close. She hoped it wasn't sold out and that she could get in. She had thought her father would never leave and he, of course, would never have allowed her to come here. She tried to come every Monday, hoping to get on stage again, but that night she knew she was too late. She got out of her car and hurriedly walked to the door. She stopped at the cashier stand and was glad there was room. She paid and then she glanced up on stage.

Open mic had already started and there was a duo on stage. It was the dark haired young man who caught her eye. He looked fairly young but she felt her insides melting as she listened to him sing, with the voice of an old soul, and play his guitar like he'd been born with it in his hands. He seemed to catch her eye too and he gave her a slight smile. Suddenly she couldn't quite catch her breath and she felt her heart pounding in her chest. She managed to make her way to an empty two top on the opposite side of the room and she practically collapsed in the chair.

"You wanna order something?" came a quiet voice in her ear.

She didn't take her eyes off the young man on stage and he seemed to be watching her too. "Diet Coke," she whispered.

She reached up and touched the necklace she was wearing. He smiled a little more and she felt something like heat lightning race through her body. She smiled back.

She was positive she had just fallen in love.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: From this point on, each chapter will also have some of Deacon's perspective.**_

When the server brought her drink, she had reached into her purse for money to pay. When she looked back at the stage, the young man was gone and she felt disappointed. She opened the straw and put it in her drink, then lifted the glass and took a sip.

"Mind if I join you?"

She turned back toward the voice and nearly choked when she saw the young man from the stage. She set her glass down hard. "Um, okay," she said, feeling herself blush. She was glad the lighting was dim.

He sat down across from her and smiled. "You singing tonight?" he asked. Even though he'd made the move to come up to her, he had a shyness about him, almost like he was a little unsure of himself with her.

She shook her head. "Not tonight. I just wanted to hear some others." Her stomach was filled with butterflies and she could feel an unfamiliar, but pleasant, heat rise up inside her.

"I heard you, when you was here before," he said.

She was surprised. She didn't remember him. Of course she really didn't remember anyone from that night. "You did?"

He nodded. "I was doing the same thing. Checking out the competition." She smiled. "You was really good." He smiled again. "I mean _really_ good."

She blushed again. "Thanks. I'm pretty new at this." She took a sip of her drink, trying to gather herself. "You and your…partner are good too."

He shrugged. "My sister."

She felt a surge of happiness when he said that, despite the fact she didn't even know him. "Y'all been doing this a while?" she asked.

He nodded. "About a year." She noticed then his clear blue eyes. His clothes looked worn but clean. He had large hands and she bet they were all callused from his guitar. She wondered what they would feel like on her skin and felt herself blush again. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears and she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been able to hear it too.

"Hey. Let's go." Rayna looked up to see the woman who'd been on stage with him. Her eyes were icy cold as she looked at Rayna and her lips were pinched together. Rayna shivered, not understanding the palpable dislike emanating from the woman. "Don't you have a date? She won't like it if you're late."

He frowned. "Just wait for me, Beverly." He kept his eyes on his sister until she turned and walked out. Then he turned back to Rayna, with an apologetic look on his face, and sighed. "Sorry. I do got a date." She thought he almost sounded disappointed about that. He stood and she looked up at him. "Hope I see you here again." Then he walked in the same direction his sister had.

Rayna watched as he picked up his guitar case and followed his sister out. She inexplicably felt like her heart had just been broken. And then she realized she didn't even know his name.

* * *

As she drove home, she felt a little bit like a balloon with all the air let out. It was silly, of course, because she didn't even know the guy's name. She didn't know anything about him except that he had a sister. And a girlfriend. And that he played the sweetest guitar she thought she'd ever heard and had a smile that was both sexy and kind. And his voice was like warm caramel. She thought she could have listened to him all night. And watched him. But she'd probably never see him again. And that made her feel unbelievably sad.

* * *

When she got home she changed into her pajamas and then stood in front of her full-length mirror. She touched her hair and then her face, wondering if he thought she was pretty. She was glad she'd taken the time to dress nice, even though he looked a little worn. _He has a girlfriend._ She sighed. She was probably blonde and pretty and bubbly with curves in all the right places. She turned first one way, then the other. She had skinny legs and she was a little short-waisted, so not balanced. Her feet were larger than average and she was covered in freckles. There were many days she wished she weren't a redhead. Her skin burned easily, which was a pain when you lived in the south.

The one thing she did have was nice boobs. They were full and womanly, had been since she was thirteen. Sometimes she hated them, because boys gawked at them. Like the ones at the open mics who yelled out 'show me your boobs'. She rolled her eyes. But she knew boys liked boobs and it made her wonder if that boy – or man – liked them too. Or maybe his girlfriend had boobs too, so he didn't care. But he'd sought her out. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that. She hoped it wasn't just because of her boobs.

She sighed and then walked over to her bed and crawled under the covers. She sat up with her knees pulled to her chest and thought about him some more. He was very handsome, with his clear blue eyes and his dark hair that settled just around his collar, his voice like smoke and whiskey. She'd been mesmerized as she listened. And when he'd smiled at her, she'd felt kind of a warm spiral rise up inside her. He seemed sweet too, like a gentleman, although she could tell he wouldn't have been comfortable in her part of town.

She reached over and turned out the light by her bed and slid down under the covers. She smiled to herself, thinking about the handsome young man from the Bluebird, even though she didn't think she'd ever see him again, and then reminded herself he had a girlfriend. The smile on her face faded and she sighed. _Maybe one day I'll meet someone who loves music like I do, someone who'll understand me and support me and be right by my side while I follow my dream._ She rolled onto her side and before long, had fallen asleep.

* * *

Her dreams were filled with the handsome young man from the Bluebird, as he sat on the chair at the table, with his guitar, and sang to her. And when he was done, he took her by the hand and led her up on the stage and they stood side-by-side and sang together, only the whole room was empty, because they only had eyes for each other.

 **####**

Deacon dropped off Beverly, then headed to his girlfriend's apartment. As he drove, he thought about the girl he'd talked to at the Bluebird and his argument with Beverly about her.

" _What the hell was that about?" she said, giving him a side-eye._

" _What the hell was_ _what_ _about?" he countered, glancing at her._

" _Sitting down with that girl" – she practically snarled the word – "and chatting her up? You've got a girlfriend."_

 _He laughed. "Since when are you Samantha's biggest fan, Bev? Ain't like you care much for her." He looked at his sister again and she scowled, turning her face away to look out the side window._

" _She looked like a rich girl, Deacon. Why would she be interested in someone like you?"_

 _He frowned. "I just wanted to say hey. She was watching us, Bev. She looked like she liked us."_

 _She let out a laugh that was almost a bark. "She was a pretty girl and you just can't walk away from a pretty girl."_

" _You don't remember her, do you?" he asked then._

 _She made a face. "What are you talking about?"_

" _She was at that open mic a few weeks ago, when we didn't make it."_

 _She looked skeptical. "You sure?"_

" _Yep."_

" _Well, you'll never see her again."_

" _You don't know that."_

 _She poked his arm. "She's too uppity for the likes of you, baby brother. When she finds out you're a nobody from Natchez, Mississippi, she'll be on her way."_

 _He clenched his jaw. "Shut up, Beverly."_

He frowned as he thought about it. He didn't understand why she cared. He pushed thoughts of his sister away and refocused on the pretty girl. He wished he'd gotten her name, but maybe he would the next time. If there _was_ a next time.

He'd been surprised to see her there. The night she'd performed at the open mic, he'd been mesmerized by her. Everything about her. Her look, her smile, her hair, her long legs. The sweetness of her voice and the innocence of her songs.

He couldn't help himself when he walked over to where she sat. This was the girl who'd inspired the words to a song he'd written down on a napkin, right there at the table in the Bluebird the night he'd watched her on stage. Even Samantha Beasley hadn't done that. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd fallen in love with the girl from the Bluebird, right then and there.

* * *

Samantha was asleep, facing away from him, snoring softly. He was still awake, laying on his back with his hands behind his head. He wasn't sure why he actually called what he and Samantha did 'dating', because they never really went out on a date, except very occasionally to a movie. She worked as a waitress at one of the jazz bars in Printer's Alley, so he usually saw her after her shift. He worked at a diner as a bus boy and kitchen prep during breakfast and lunch three days a week and worked the sound board at Robert's Western World three afternoons a week. In between he wrote songs and hit as many open mics and spotlights as he and Beverly could get to.

He'd met Samantha on one of her off days when she'd stopped by Robert's. She was a pretty girl – blonde, petite, and friendly – but she was sort of flighty and, while she liked music, she wasn't _into_ music. She was also older than him, which meant she could get him whiskey when he wanted, one of her 'charms'. They didn't have a lot in common, which was probably okay, because they spent most of their time in bed. She was very good in bed and he definitely enjoyed it, but afterwards it felt a little empty. She was fun, though, and she made him laugh and he'd just never had a good reason to not see her. Until now.

He really did want to get to know that girl from the Bluebird, he decided. He'd just have to figure out a way to do that.

 **####**

Rayna was tapping her pen on her notebook, not really paying attention to her English teacher. It was her last class of the day and she was anxious to get out. It was the sixth Monday since she'd seen the handsome man/boy at the Bluebird and she had yet to see him again. Her father had not been out of town as much over the past few weeks, which had been frustrating. The one time she had gotten to the Bluebird, she wasn't picked for the open mic. She had stayed, but her crush wasn't there. She was actually starting to feel her interest wane.

But finally her father was on the road again and she was going to try again to get an open mic spot, no matter who else was there. She had her clothes in her locker so she could change in the bathroom before she left school. She had tried drying her hair straight that morning, but it was a warm, muggy May day and, despite her best efforts, her hair had developed its usual waves. Her guitar was in her trunk and she would drive straight to the music venue from school. She wasn't far and, although she knew how early she got there didn't really matter, she kept thinking it didn't hurt.

Finally the final bell rang and she tossed all her school stuff into her book bag and started for the door. "Miss Wyatt?" her teacher called out. She tried to act like she hadn't heard, but she called out again, a little louder. "Miss Wyatt?"

 _Damn._ She stopped and sighed, then turned towards the front of the room, as the rest of her classmates headed out the door, some of them looking at her and snickering just a little. She waited until everyone was gone and just stood there, tapping her foot. "Yes, ma'am?" she said, hoping she conveyed just a little of the irritation she felt at being kept after the final bell.

Her teacher came out from behind her desk, a sheet of paper in her hand. "I just wanted to talk to you about this," she said, holding the paper towards Rayna. She stopped far enough that Rayna had to walk towards her to take it. When she took it, she saw that it was poem she'd written as homework, one she'd called 'A Cumberland Girl'. She looked at her teacher quizzically. "I was really struck by this," her teacher said. "You have a really lovely way with words."

Rayna couldn't help but smile. "Thank you," she said.

Her teacher peered at her closely. "I know you sing in the school choir, and this" – she pointed at the paper in Rayna's hand – "really reads like lyrics to a song. Are you thinking about a musical career? Maybe studying music in college?"

Rayna was taken a little by surprise. She had never really considered that she could actually study music in school. "I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest," she said.

"Maybe you should. I know your sister goes to Vanderbilt and I believe your father is quite a supporter, and they do have music programs, but maybe you didn't know about all the programs Belmont University has."

Rayna was intrigued. "No, ma'am, I didn't."

Her teacher smiled. "Oh, yes. There's a music performance major and musical theater." She winked. "Even music business, if that would please your father more."

Rayna rolled her eyes. "I'm not that interested in business," she said. She hesitated, then said, "I really want to be an artist, to perform on stage, but I don't think I have to go to college to do that."

"You don't. But if you get to that point, I just wanted you to think about it." She reached out then and took back the paper. "And this is really well written. Not surprisingly so, since your poetry is always quite lovely."

It had been a long time since Rayna had gotten this kind of praise and it felt good. "Thank you," she said again, with a smile.

"You're very welcome. And I know I'm holding you up." Rayna looked at her questioningly and her teacher gave her a conspiratorial look. "You seemed like you were in a hurry to escape."

Rayna laughed a little self-consciously. "Oh well, I just need to get home. Thank you again." She hurried out of the room and down to her locker, where she retrieved her clothes. As she changed in the girls' restroom, she thought again about what her teacher had said. She hoped she'd be well on her way to her dream of being a country music star by the time college rolled around, but it was interesting to hear that, if forced to, there were options.

Then, as she headed out for her car, she forgot all about the conversation as she stepped on the gas and headed for the Bluebird.

* * *

She was leaning against the wall at the strip center where the Bluebird was located. She'd put her name in and had hurriedly surveyed the other hopefuls, but didn't see the man/boy and his sister. She thought he had to be old enough to be considered a man – his sister had looked really grown up, with her pursed lips and narrow eyes. She smiled to herself a little. She didn't even know her, but she already could tell they would probably not be the type to be friends.

She kept looking at her watch, as it crept closer to 5:30, when they would announce who would get one of the lucky spots. The area around her was filling up and she kept looking. Then finally she saw them and she felt her heart skip a beat. Then she thought he might not even remember her, so she tried to keep her expectations in check. She decided to try to play it cool and looked out over the parking lot towards the street, as though she were uninterested in what was going on around her.

"Hey." She turned and caught her breath. He was standing right beside her, smiling. "You're here," he said.

She nodded, speechless at first. Then she found her voice. "Oh, yeah." She smiled. "Hey."

"I looked for you the last couple times we was here, but you weren't," he said.

She shook her head. "I've been busy," she said, sensing it wouldn't be helpful to tell him she was just sixteen and could only come when her father didn't know she was there.

"Deacon!" Rayna peered around him and saw his sister standing about twenty feet away, an annoyed look on her face. He turned to look at her, then back. _So his name's Deacon._

"I guess you should go," she said.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Look, I hope you get picked."

She smiled. "You too."

"Oh, I'm Deacon, by the way," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Deacon Claybourne."

She felt that warmth roll through her, the same feeling she'd had the first time she'd seen him. She took his hand. "Hey, Deacon. I'm Rayna."

* * *

They both got picked that night, which was exciting. He and his sister sat on the other side of the room, by his sister's design, Rayna was sure, but she was really glad to get to hear him again. When it was her turn, she sang the same two songs she'd done the last time she was there, but she felt a little more confident this time, even though she knew Deacon was in the room watching her. She tried not to look in his direction, certain it would make her forget the words or go off-key, or something.

She managed to get through both songs without mishap and then she headed for the steps. She stumbled a little and a patron grabbed her arm so she didn't fall, but she was embarrassed. She hurried back to the restroom and was glad no one was there. She closed herself inside and felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. She was mad at herself for getting weepy. Her father always sternly warned her against showing signs of weakness, like crying, so she took several deep breaths as she faced the mirror.

She reached for a paper towel and dampened it, then patted her face, took another couple of deep breaths and went back out. She could hear one of the other open mic performers and so she stood near the bar. As she waited, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, an older man standing near the door. After a moment, he started to walk towards the bar. She didn't think anything of it, until he stopped next to her and leaned back against the bar. It made her nervous and she wanted to move.

"I'm glad you came back," the man said, his voice low. He sounded kind and she turned to look at him. She hadn't noticed that he had a beard and moustache, but she did realize he was even a little older than she'd thought he was. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore a suit with a narrow tie. She couldn't have put her finger on it, but she instinctively knew he was no one to be afraid of. "You were quite good up there," he said, looking at her intently. "Rayna Jaymes?"

She thought about saying no, but if he'd been here and heard her, he knew her name, since she'd said it when she started her set. She nodded. "Yes, sir."

He held his hand out. "Rayna, I'm Watty White."


	6. Chapter 6

She held her breath. Watty White was a big deal in Nashville. He'd started out as a singer, a songwriter, a musician. He was also a top producer in town and one of the top A&R men on Music Row. She knew that people like Watty White could change people's lives. "Let's go back there," he said, motioning towards the back hallway. She walked back, then turned to face him. He looked at her curiously. "You have any more songs besides the ones you did tonight?"

She shook her head. "No, sir. I'm working on some more though." She wasn't really, but she didn't want that to stand in her way. Songwriting was hard, though, but she'd work on it, if that's what she needed to do. It reminded her of what her teacher had said to her, that her poems sounded like lyrics to a song. But it was the music part that really caused her fits.

He nodded. "And where are you performing?"

"Open mics, like this."

"I see." He seemed to be thinking. "Are you taking guitar lessons?"

She shook her head. It was starting to feel like she didn't have the right answers. "No, sir. I bought a book in a music store and have kind of been trying to teach myself." She didn't want to tell him her father would never have allowed her to take lessons. "I can play the piano though. Really well."

He crossed his arms and looked at her. "Here's the thing, Rayna. You're very talented. Vocally anyway. You could use more songs, but that's not critical. But what you've written needs some work. Your lyrics are better than your melodies, so you might need to think about writing with a partner, if you plan to keep trying to write your own songs. Your guitar work needs a lot of improvement. I'd recommend either taking some lessons or finding someone to play guitar for you. Probably the latter. And you need to stop playing open mics. You need to find places where you can perform and build up your reputation. There are plenty of places that will let you play for free."

She frowned. "I don't want to play for free, Mr. White," she said. "I'm going to have a career in country music and I need someone to believe in me and help me, not someone who tells me all the things that are wrong with me. I know I can sing, I just need to be heard."

He looked at her with an amused look on his face. "I tell you what, if confidence gets you where you want to go, I'd put money on you. But I'm telling you what you need to do to make it in this business. It's not just standing up on the Bluebird stage and having somebody sign you to a record label. You've got a ways to go before you're even close to being ready for that. Maybe that's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth."

She had to at least consider he might be right. She had really hoped someone like him would hear her and want to sign her to a record deal, but she knew at least some of what he said was probably true. "Well, where else would I go to sing?"

"Any of the honky tonks on Broadway. Plenty of restaurants and bars will give you a slot. You'll play for tips, so not nothing, but it'll help you gain some confidence. And a following." He looked at her intently. "Do you plan to keep writing your own songs?"

"I'd like to. At least some. Isn't that what the really big name artists do?"

He smiled at her. "Some. Not all. There are plenty of great songwriters in town. But you need to have a good repertoire to perform with. I'd advise that you do a few popular covers and add in some deep album cuts that show your range. And keep working at the writing. It won't happen overnight. If you check the histories of some of the big stars, you'll see that it took years for them to finally make it. You'll need to really put in a lot of hard work, but I think you have what it takes." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. "I'll keep an eye on you, Miss Rayna Jaymes. I have a feeling you could do some good things out there, with some time and experience." He turned then and walked back out the way they came, leaving her to gape after him.

She couldn't decide if she felt good about what he'd told her or not. There was a part of her that wanted to put her head down and cry. He didn't give her a lot of encouragement on her writing. Her guitar playing wasn't good. And she needed to stop doing open mics. That last part confused her. How would she get noticed if she was playing at some honky tonk?

As she walked back out into the main room, she noticed that Deacon and his sister were on stage. She stopped and focused on them, wondering what their story was. She thought about what Mr. White had said, about her guitar playing, and wondered if Deacon might be willing to give her some lessons. She could tell he was really good, so he might be able to teach her some of what she needed to know.

 _ **####**_

When he and Beverly had gotten up on stage, he'd looked for Rayna, but didn't see her. He'd felt deflated, thinking she had left. But then she came out from the back of the Bluebird and it had lifted his spirits. She stood at the bar and watched and he felt like he was singing directly to her. He hoped he got a chance to talk to her after he and Beverly were through.

* * *

As he and Beverly walked out of the Bluebird, he saw Rayna standing next to what he presumed was her car. He slowed down and looked over at his sister. "I'm gonna go talk to her for a minute," he said.

"Why?"

He frowned. "'Cause I want to," he said.

"I don't want to hang around here, Deacon."

"You can wait five minutes, Beverly. That's all." She scowled at him and took off for the truck. He headed for where Rayna stood. She smiled as he approached. "Hey," he said. "You sounded good tonight."

"Thanks. So did y'all." He felt tongue-tied then and was grateful that she kept talking. "So this man came up to talk to me. Watty White. You know who he is?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Everybody knows him." He smiled. "He offer you a record deal?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No. He basically told me I was a long way from being ready for that." She looked at him. "Um, you're really good with the guitar. Would you be willing to teach me?"

"Oh, I ain't no teacher." He shook his head.

"Would you just show me some chords then? Maybe I can pick 'em up from you if you just show me."

He shrugged, his chest feeling kind of tight. More than anything, he wanted to spend time with her, but he knew he wasn't her kind. "I guess I could do that."

She bit down on her lip, which made him want to kiss her. He hardly knew her, but there was something about her that made him feel like they'd just been waiting for each other. "Would your girlfriend mind?" she asked, sounding hesitant.

 _Samantha._ He felt a pit in his stomach. Yes, she most definitely would mind. As fun and breezy as she was, she was also very territorial. He swallowed and smiled. "Nah, she'd be cool," he lied. He took a deep breath. "I could show you some stuff. Where you wanna meet?"

She smiled. "Where do you live?"

He hesitated a moment, then looked over his shoulder towards his truck. Beverly was leaning against it, her arms crossed over her chest. Even from this distance, he could feel her disapproval and irritation, and he knew he needed to get going or she'd come over. "Um, me and Beverly's staying in a studio place, across the river."

She nodded. "That sounds…small."

He smiled a little. "It is. Bev's kinda on the fence about staying though, I think. But we don't got the kinda money to get a better place. Yet."

She looked thoughtful and he was sure then she was rethinking everything. She was obviously from the nicer part of town, with her pretty clothes and her manners and her convertible and her shiny, expensive guitar. "Do you know where Shelby Bottoms is?" she asked then, surprising him a little.

He nodded. He'd done his fair share of busking down at that park, since he and Beverly had been in Nashville. She wouldn't go – _playing for pennies is for losers_ , she said – but he'd found it to be a great place to try out songs and to write. People seemed to like what he'd written and he'd made more than pennies there. "Yeah, I do."

"Could we meet there? Like, in the afternoon? Tomorrow? I couldn't get there before about four."

He quickly thought in his head about his schedule. "Can't tomorrow. What about the day after?"

It was her turn to look thoughtful. _What if she says no?_ She bit her lip again. "Yeah, I can do that. I won't be able to stay but about an hour or so. Is that enough time?"

He glanced back over his shoulder, in time to see Beverly push off the side of the truck and start towards him, her face dark. He looked back at Rayna and smiled. "Yeah. It's a start. I'll meet you at the picnic area." He glanced back at Beverly again. "Look, I gotta go. See you Wednesday then?"

Rayna smiled, that beautiful smile that lit up her whole face. "See you Wednesday," she said.

He lifted his hand in a wave and then turned, hustling towards Beverly so she wouldn't come any further. He was smiling to himself though, thinking about seeing Rayna on Wednesday afternoon.

 _ **####**_

Rayna drove to Tandy's apartment after school the next day. She envied her sister, being able to live on her own. Even though her father was often out of town, she still felt like she didn't have much freedom, that she was always being watched. She felt suffocated, at times. When she got to the apartment complex, she hurried across the parking lot and up the stairs, then knocked on Tandy's door.

When the door opened, Tandy had a huge smile on her face. "Hey there, baby sister!" she cried, reaching in for a hug. "I'm so glad to see you."

Rayna walked in and looked around. It was a typical college student apartment, although she suspected Tandy's furnishings were nicer than most college students'. Tandy's books and notebooks were scattered across the kitchen table that doubled as a desk. There was an open bag of chips and dip on the table as well. Rayna looked back at her. "Were you studying?" she asked.

Tandy nodded. "But I needed a break." She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She looked back at Rayna. "You want a Diet Coke or something?"

Rayna smiled. "Diet Coke, please." Tandy plucked out two cans and handed one to Rayna, then walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Rayna followed and sat at the other end, popping open the can. She took a sip, then took a deep breath. "So I did another open mic at the Bluebird last night," she said.

Tandy bounced on the couch. "Oh, babe, that's fantastic! How'd it go?"

Rayna put her can down on the coffee table and fidgeted with her hands. "Well, two things really. First of all, that guy was there again."

Tandy frowned. "Guy? What guy?"

Rayna was puzzled. "I didn't tell you about the guy who sang who introduced himself to me? Deacon?"

Tandy shook her head. "No, you didn't."

"Oh. Well, he and his sister were performing one night when I just went to listen. He's so good, Tandy, you just wouldn't believe it. Anyway, he introduced himself to me afterwards and told me he'd heard me when I was there. Only I didn't remember seeing him."

"What's he like?"

Rayna screwed up her face. "He's very handsome and he is really good with the guitar and when he sings, it's just amazing."

Tandy rolled her eyes. "I mean as a person, Rayna."

"Oh, well, I don't really know him very well yet. But he seems very nice. He's going to help me learn guitar chords."

"How old is he?"

Rayna thought about that and realized she really knew very little about him, other than his name. "I don't know. Older than me, but not old old, or anything."

Tandy looked unsure. "Where is he going to teach you guitar chords?"

"At Shelby Bottoms. He lives near there."

"Oh, sweetheart, East Nashville? Really? That's not our kind of people."

Rayna scowled. "I don't care, Tandy. You and I don't have the same kind of people anyway."

"Well, that's not really true, but I still think you should care. He could be just some sort of riff raff, Rayna."

Rayna rolled her eyes. "You sound like Daddy, Tandy. Like you don't think I can take care of myself or decide things for myself."

"That's not true."

Rayna stood up then. "It is too. I thought you were on my side but it seems like you're not. I'm old enough to know what I'm doing with my life." She went and picked up her purse, standing by the door. "In fact, someone saw me last night at the Bluebird and told me I could make it in this business. That was the other thing I wanted to tell you, but you still think I'm a child apparently."

Tandy jumped up. "Rayna, you know I don't think of you as a child. I've always supported you." She smiled. "So who saw you?"

Rayna shook her head. "No. I'm doing this on my own now, without your help." She opened the door, then turned back. "But just so you know, it's someone who's very well-known and connected in Nashville. You wouldn't know him anyway. Watty White." She walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

 _ **####**_

 _You wouldn't know him anyway. Watty White._ Tandy felt like she was frozen in place. Watty White. The musician who'd been involved with their mother. Rayna was wrong, of course. She _did_ know who he was. She'd made it her business to find out who he was. She had just hoped her sister wouldn't cross paths with him. Now she didn't know what to do.

Maybe it was naïve to think that Rayna would never meet Watty White. After all, he was a powerful man in the country music world and Rayna was determined to forge a career in country music. She didn't know if she should tell her sister who this man was, that maybe he was only interested in her because she was Virginia Wyatt's daughter. She didn't want to tarnish Rayna's memories of their mom though. Rayna had worshiped her and Tandy knew it would devastate her sister to know this side of their mom. She would never purposely hurt her.

And so she decided to keep it to herself. Maybe things would all work themselves out.

 _ **####**_

They were just approaching the highway, when Beverly turned to look at him. "What's the deal with that girl anyway?" she asked.

He glanced at his sister, then back to the road. "No deal. I just think she's a really good singer."

"And that she's pretty and totally out of your league, baby brother."

He looked at her again, a smug smile on her face, and scowled. "Shut up, Beverly. It ain't like that."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, it's not? So why did you go racing after her? And why was she waiting by her car? And what about Samantha?"

"It ain't none of your business, Bev," he said, not looking at her. He huffed. "She asked me for guitar lessons."

Beverly cackled. "Seriously? And you fell for that? Baby brother, she's just using you. Slumming with the poor white trash from Natchez, Mississippi."

He grabbed her by the wrist and squeezed hard. "You shut the hell up," he snarled. "You don't know nothing about her. She ain't like that."

She scowled at him and pulled her arm away. "How would you know? You've spent, what, ten minutes with her and suddenly you know everything about her?"

He fumed. She was right, he didn't know her, not really, but he felt like he did. There had been something between them, something that had felt like they were connected somehow. But he wasn't going to tell his sister that. "Just shut up," was all he said.

* * *

When he laid down on the fold out couch that night, he thought about what Beverly had said. _What's the deal with that girl anyway?_ The truth was, he wasn't sure he could describe it. When he'd seen her on stage that first time, he'd felt something he'd never felt about another girl before. In spite of the fact that he had never met her, he'd felt some sort of connection to her. She was definitely pretty and she had a voice like an angel, but it was more than that. If he had believed in love at first sight, he'd have said that's what it was.

He'd never loved anyone before. He'd always kept his heart closed off, unwilling to let someone in that much. He had secrets and demons that he didn't have to share with a one and done or a casual girlfriend like Samantha Beasley. The life he'd known, the way he'd grown up, had made him wary of giving his heart away or of subjecting a girl to the pain he carried inside.

Rayna had been different. He rolled her name around in his head. _Rayna._ He'd never heard that name before, but he thought it suited her. It was pretty, like her. Unique, like her. A great name for a country music star. He thought about her in comparison to Samantha. Samantha was pretty too, in a more obvious way. She had curves Rayna didn't have and she exuded an animal sexiness that Rayna didn't, although Rayna was sexy in her own way.

Samantha was a country girl, the same way he was a country boy. She was fun-loving, fiery, and loud. She dressed in an overtly sexy way and knew how to use her charms. Rayna seemed more refined, sweet, and smart. He wanted to know her better.

When he closed his eyes, he could see her, and in his head he heard the words 'I love you'. He sat up, gulping in a deep breath. He didn't even know her and yet, while those words seemed crazy, they also seemed right. He got up and, in the hazy moonlight coming through the blinds, he walked over to his guitar case. He opened it and found the napkin from the Bluebird that he'd tucked into a side pocket. He walked outside the apartment and peered at the napkin in the weak glow of the streetlight in the parking lot. He'd written the words as he'd watched a pretty young girl sing on her first night at the Bluebird Café.

 _Sittin' here tonight / By the fire light / It reminds me I already have more than I should / I don't need fame / No one to know my name / At the end of the day, Lord I pray, I have a life that's good_

 _Two arms around me, heaven to ground me / And a family that always calls me home / Four wheels to get there, enough love to share / And a sweet, sweet, sweet song /_

 _At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good_

A pretty young girl named Rayna Jaymes.

 _ **####**_

Rayna felt anxious all day long, waiting for the final bell to ring. The day seemed to drag. When it was finally the end of the day, she practically ran to her car in the student parking lot. She had stowed her guitar in the trunk that morning, so she was ready to go. She had hoped to be one of the first out of the parking lot, but it seemed like everyone had had the same idea and it took longer than she expected to get out onto Estes Road and head for the highway.

It was a beautiful day nonetheless and she pressed the button to let the top down on her car. She couldn't help but smile as the wind blew through her hair and the sun warmed her skin. She was both excited and nervous to be spending time with Deacon Claybourne. She rolled his name around in her head, thinking what a strong name it was. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought about the fact that he might touch her hands, while showing her a chord. She wondered if his fingers would feel rough and callousy. She thought probably so, but she was looking forward to finding out.

When she finally reached the park, she wound around until she got to the picnic area. She pulled into a parking spot and got out of her car. She opened her trunk and tossed in her purse and retrieved her guitar. She took a deep breath as she turned to see if Deacon was there. She finally spotted him sitting on top of one of the stone picnic tables, his guitar across his lap and his head bent down. She had butterflies in her stomach and felt rooted to the spot. She swallowed hard and made her way across the parking lot.

He looked up as she approached, putting aside his guitar. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, one that accentuated his sinewy arms and stretched across his chest. The butterflies were back. At first he smiled, then a look of confusion seemed to cross his face. She walked up and stood in front of him. "Hey," she said, feeling a little nervous about the change in his demeanor.

"Hey," he said. He looked a little uncertain and she started to worry he wasn't interested in helping her after all. He nodded towards her. "That a uniform?" he asked.

She looked down and suddenly understood his confusion. She'd never told him how old she was and she hoped he wasn't sorry now that he'd offered to help her. She bit down on her lip. "I'm in high school," she said.

He took a deep breath. "I, uh, didn't know that."

She lifted her chin. "Does it matter?"

He looked a little sheepish then. "Nah, I guess not." He peered at her closely. "How old _are_ you?"

"Sixteen." She arched an eyebrow. "How old are you?" She was a little worried he'd be a lot older than she thought.

"Nineteen," he said, and she felt a sense of relief. Nineteen was still older, but not too much older.

"Do you not want to teach me now?" she asked, feeling a little defiant.

He shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I just didn't know you was, well, that young." She frowned. "I mean, you just sounded like you was older. And looked older. I mean, _look_ older."

"You know, I can find someone else to teach me. Since I'm so much younger than you thought." She turned and started to head back to her car. Then he jumped off the table and grabbed her arm. She whipped her head around to glare at him.

He was frowning too. "Hey, I said it was okay. Why you all mad now?"

She pulled her arm from his grasp and turned back to face him. "It's like you think I'm a kid or something. I can see it in your face."

He looked up at the sky, then back at her, shaking his head. "I didn't say nothing like that," he said, a little mulishly.

She set down her guitar case and clenched her fists. "This is my dream, to be a country music artist. I'm a hard worker and I'm dedicated to this. If you want to help me, great. If you don't, then I can find someone else. But Mr. Watty White said I had potential and so…."

He took a step towards her. "Stop talking!" he said. That startled her and she did stop talking. He put his hands to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, then pushed his arms out in front of him, his eyes wide open. "I said I would help you, and I will. I don't care how old you are. I was just surprised." He smiled a little shyly. "I'm impressed, Rayna," he said then, his voice softening. "Ain't too many sixteen year olds would do what you are. Could do what you are."

She was a little in shock at first, but then she smiled. "Really? You're impressed?"

He nodded, smiling back at her. "Yeah." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "So you still want me to help you?"

She couldn't help but think, again, how good looking he was, especially when he smiled. The butterflies started up again. "Yeah," she said. "I think I do."

 _ **####**_

After he had walked her to her car, and watched her put her guitar in the trunk, he'd gotten in his truck and headed for the apartment. He couldn't stop thinking about her, as he drove home. He smiled to himself as he thought about how feisty she'd been at first. But he'd been taken by surprise when she showed up in a school uniform. He would have sworn she was closer to his age and he had wondered about the wisdom of hanging out with a high school junior. But she was passionate about her dream and he understood that passion. He had it too. They had talked first, about the things Watty had told her, and that had helped him understand her better.

" _He told me I needed to stop playing open mics, that I'm not really going to get noticed that way," she said. "But I thought all the music company people came to open mics."_

 _He nodded. "They do, but Watty's right. You need to try to get people to follow you around. Or come back and hear you play at the same place."_

 _She screwed up her face. "But for free? I don't see how that's gonna help me." He couldn't help but smile at her, as she sat primly on the edge of the picnic table, her knees and legs together and her hands folded in her lap._

 _He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, free don't help if you're wanting to make money. But it helps for people to see you. And music people go to those kinds of places too."_

" _Is that what you do?"_

 _He shrugged. "Some. I gotta work too though, so I can't always. But I do afternoons sometimes, if I can get into a honky tonk. I play here. Or in other parks where there's other people playing."_

" _In parks?"_

" _Sure. Me and Beverly do it sometimes." He gave her a crooked smile. "People like to listen to music. 'Specially if it's free." He rubbed his hands on his legs. "Thing is, Rayna, if you wanna do this, you just gotta do it. Don't be snobby 'bout where you play."_

 _She frowned and clenched her fists. "I'm not snobby." Then she relaxed her hands and smoothed them out over her plaid skirt. "I'm not. I just…didn't know."_

 _He smiled. "Now you do." He turned and reached for his guitar then. "So you ready to try some chords?"_

He didn't really want to tell her she was awful on the guitar, but she was. She told him she'd used a book on how to play the guitar, but he thought surely a book wouldn't have told her to play as badly as she did. But he could see she was serious about wanting to learn and he wanted to help her. So he turned towards her and had her turn to face him and he talked her through finger placement, telling her to watch him.

She had a tough time keeping her fingers where they needed to be and so he put his fingers against hers to hold them in place. Every time he did, he felt something like a lightning bolt race through him. When she would lean forward to look at how he was placing her fingers, he found himself wanting to kiss her. She would look at him then with what seemed to him to be a mix of curiosity and apprehension and it made him wonder if she might have wanted to kiss him too.

He shook his head. She was sixteen. Too young. And he had a girlfriend. Or something like that. He could have sex with Samantha. He instinctively knew he couldn't go there with Rayna. She was too good for him, too proper.

He really couldn't stop thinking about her though. Which was why he agreed to another guitar lesson.


	7. Chapter 7

"Where have you been, young lady?"

Rayna felt her heart seem to stop and her mouth go dry as she turned to face Lamar, standing at the door of his study. "Daddy," she said, swallowing hard. "I thought you were out of town."

"Got home early." He nodded at the guitar case she had in her hand. "Where have you been?" he asked again. "With that?"

She took a deep breath. "Studying." Not totally true, but not totally incorrect either. "And this was in the car so I thought I'd bring it in." She set the case down and squared her stance. "I'd really like to take guitar lessons, though. I'm not very good."

"You don't need guitar lessons. I don't know why your mother even bought you that. Piano is much more appropriate."

She frowned. "But I want to learn to play. I want to write songs and perform and I need a guitar."

He took a few steps towards her. "I've already told you, Rayna, that those are foolish dreams, put in your head by your mother, who had no business encouraging that."

"But I want to be an artist, Daddy," she said stubbornly.

He smiled, but it was a cold unfeeling smile. "Not while you live in this house, Rayna. That is not acceptable. And you'll do well to remember that as long as you live in my house, you follow my rules." His voice was low and deceptively calm. She knew better than to underestimate him. But she was stubborn and she had learned, over the past four years, to stand her ground with him.

She lifted her chin and stared back at him, without flinching. "What about _my_ dreams? What _I_ want to do with my life? Why are you so dead set against me doing this?"

He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. "It's not appropriate for someone of your background, Rayna. I can't allow you to go out and play in a…honky tonk, in front of riff raff, for tips. It's beneath you."

"But what if _want_ to do that? And what if, one day, I'm on a big stage, in front of thousands of people, selling millions of records? Doing what I love?"

He scowled and shook his head. "No. Don't cross me, girl. You'll regret it if you do."

She stared back at him defiantly. "Then I guess one day I'll regret it," she said, more calmly than she felt. She turned and headed for the stairs.

"Don't you defy me, Rayna!" her father called after her. "Don't test me!"

She kept walking up the stairs and then down the hall to her room. When she got there, she closed the door and dropped her guitar case on the floor and started shaking. It wasn't really that she was afraid to keep trying to reach her dream, but she had no idea what her father might do and she wasn't really prepared for that.

* * *

She met Deacon the next week at the same park. When she walked up to him, she said, "How do I get in touch with you if I need to? Like, if something comes up and I can't make it, or it rains, or something? Do you have a phone?"

He nodded. "I do, but I ain't always there."

She set her guitar case on the bench seat and opened it, lifting out her guitar. She looked back at him. "Would your sister take a message?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. She can be kinda moody."

She got up on the table and sat next to him. "She doesn't like me much, does she? Or maybe it's just that she really likes your girlfriend." She smiled a little, although it still made her heart hurt to think he had a girlfriend.

He smiled and shook his head. "She don't really like her. But it gives her a chance to bug me. She _does_ like to do that."

She smiled. "Well, if you'll write it down for me anyway, I can try." She pulled a piece of paper out of her backpack and handed it to him with a pen. She watched as he wrote down his name and the number and gave them back to her. His fingers brushed against hers when he did and he looked up at her. She felt her breath catch in her throat. "Thanks," she whispered. He had a look in his eyes that she couldn't decipher, a wistfulness almost. She wondered what it meant.

He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. "So, um, did you practice at all since last time?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I did. But I don't think it sounded the same way as it did when I was here."

He looked at her for a moment. "Maybe we tried too much at once. Maybe we just do one or two."

 _ **####**_

One thing he noticed about her right away was that she got mad quick. She did then. "Are you saying you don't think I can do this? Or remember things? That I'm stupid?" She was frowning and her jaw was set.

He shook his head vigorously. "No, no, I ain't saying that at all," he said. "None of that. I'm saying maybe we did too much. It's a lot, when you don't know how to play."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I _do_ know how to play. Maybe you're just a bad teacher."

He scowled at her. "I told you I ain't no teacher at all. _You_ were the one who wanted to do this." He sucked in his breath. "You ever thought it's just you ain't that good?"

Her eyes flew wide open and she gasped. "Are you saying I can't play the guitar?" she cried.

"I'm saying you ain't the best at it." She looked so hurt then, he closed his eyes and bit down on his lip. He hadn't meant to say that and hurt her feelings. He liked her. A lot. He liked her spunk and her drive. And she was so pretty. He opened his eyes to look at her and he could see her looking away, chewing her lip, like she was trying to keep from crying. He reached out and touched her arm. "Rayna…."

She swung her head back to look at him and, instead of tears, he saw determination. "You're right. I'm not very good. I probably will never be very good. But I need to know how to do at least a passable amount so I can write songs. _And_ accompany myself. You still may not be the best teacher, but you are a really, really good guitar player. If I can learn even a little bit from you, it'll be better than nothing."

He had to smile. She was so determined and he liked that about her. "How many songs you wrote?"

Her face turned pink. "Just two. The two I sang at the Bluebird." She bit her lip. "How many have you written?"

He shrugged. "Maybe thirty, thirty-five."

She looked surprised. "Really?"

"I like to write." He smiled a little. "Ain't all necessarily good, but I got stuff to say, so I say it."

"Do you want to be a songwriter?"

"You mean like just a songwriter?" She nodded. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I wanna be on stage, same as you. I wanna headline a tour, make something of myself. Show people I can do it."

"Your girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "Not her." He sighed. "This means everything to me. Like it does you. That's why I came here, to be an artist. To get a record deal, be on the radio, be on stage. A big stage, not a honky tonk or a bar or something. And write my own songs. I don't wanna sing nobody else's songs."

"How do you know what to write about?"

"I write about my truth. Three chords and the truth, that's what they say. You just gotta write what's in your heart or on your mind. Sometimes it's therapy to write it out."

She frowned. "Do you do that a lot? Write as therapy?"

He nodded. "I do." He inclined his head towards her. "You seem like you have a nice life. Private school, right? So you're rich?"

She set her jaw again and he couldn't help but smile at her earnestness and backbone. "I don't know why you assume I'm rich. And what that has to do with writing as therapy."

He laughed softly. "Hey, I don't mean to assume nothing. But think about it. Private school, convertible car, nice clothes. Means a nice life. Maybe you don't have things to write about like that."

"You don't know anything about me, Deacon Claybourne!" she cried.

"Then why don't you tell me?" He set aside his guitar and sat back.

She looked away for a moment, then back at him. "My mom was the one who got me interested in music. Especially country music. When I'd come home from school, we'd listen to the radio or these mix tapes she had, with all her favorite artists. We'd sing together and I just knew that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life." She patted her guitar. " _She_ was the one who gave me this, because she supported me and encouraged me. I'm doing this for _her_."

He frowned a little. "You need to do it for _you_ , Rayna." He thought he saw the hint of tears in her eyes.

"I _am_ doing it for me, because it's my dream, but it was her dream for me too. Before she died." Now he understood and his heart ached for the obvious sorrow she was feeling. He could see it in her face – the loneliness, the wistfulness, the sadness. "She died when I was twelve." She looked at him then. "I've felt pretty alone since then. Doing this kind of helps me feel close to her."

He breathed in. "But you still got your dad, right?"

She nodded. "And my sister. But my father doesn't want me doing this. In fact, he gets angry every time he sees my guitar or hears me listening to country music. I don't understand that. I don't understand why he's so angry with me for wanting it. He's just always so angry, you know? I feel like I'm just, I don't know, wandering around that big old house all by myself."

He smiled a little. "See, I knew you were rich."

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled and swatted his arm. "I'm not rich. My father is, but I'm not." She sighed and the smile faded from her face. "I hate that life, Deacon. Everything about it is so fake, so pretentious, you know? I feel like I don't belong there." Some kids ran by and she watched them, before looking back at him. "I think my mom felt the same way. Even though she was born into that, she always seemed like she wished she was somewhere else, like she wasn't completely happy. I think that's why she gave me the guitar, so I'd follow my dreams instead of just doing what I was supposed to do because of where I was born." She shrugged. "You probably didn't have to worry about all that, if you've written all those songs. You had a nice, normal life with no one having these crazy expectations of you."

 _If only she knew._ He shook his head. "I didn't have no normal life, Rayna. My mom died too, not when I was young as you, but that's why me and Beverly came here. She was gone and there wasn't no reason to stay in Mississippi."

"Where do your songs come from? What's _your_ truth?" She looked curious.

He smiled a little. "Life in a small town. Tough times. Being afraid."

She looked skeptical. "I can't imagine you being afraid of anything. You seem pretty tough to me."

He shook his head. "You never know about people's lives, Rayna Jaymes. Sometimes they ain't what they seem."

She bit her lip. "My last name's not really Jaymes, you know."

"No, I didn't know."

"My father is kind of well-known in Nashville and I didn't want people knowing who I was. Jaymes was my mom's last name."

He smiled at her. "Rayna's kinda unique."

She blushed. "I guess it is, now that you say it." She glanced at his guitar. "Will you play me one of your songs?"

"Sure." He thought about what to play, finally choosing something that wasn't autobiographical but spoke to his feelings of not being able, or wanting to, go back home.

 _Papa writes to Johnny / But Johnny can't come home / Been too much time now / Too many nights on the road / Oh, too many nights on the road_

 _Blues on the table / There's blues every week / Pouring out of the coffee pot / With the first cup of the day / Oh, the first cup of the day_

 _Now where are my friends / When I'm taking the heat / Only help I got today / Was from a stranger on the street / Oh, a stranger on the street…._

* * *

She had layers to her he hadn't expected. She was a rich girl – well, truthfully, she came from a rich family – but she didn't really act like it. She had good manners and talked educated, but she was down-to-earth. He'd thought she wouldn't have had much life experience, but when she'd told him about losing her mom, he'd realized there was a lot more there than she probably realized herself. Before she left, he'd asked her if she'd tried picking up a gig anywhere else and she said she had not. So he asked for the piece of paper back where he'd written his phone number and added several places he knew she could go and ask for an hour on a stage. She wouldn't get paid, but she'd get some experience playing in front of people for more than just a couple songs, and she'd get some tips.

That's when he'd realized they hadn't spent any time on the guitar. _If you come back next week, I promise we'll do some chord work._ She had smiled, that pretty smile that captured his heart, and told him that would be fine. And she said she'd work on some lyrics too, to bring to him. He really wanted to share with her the song he'd written for her. He'd finished it up and laid down the melody and every time he played it for himself, it made him think of her.

She felt like home to him, not that he thought he was good enough to be home for her, but he somehow just knew she'd be someone a man could love who would love him back just as fiercely and completely. Someone to make a home with, raise up a family with. _Two arms around me / heaven to ground me / and a family that always calls me home…._

 _ **####**_

She was sitting at her desk, finishing her homework. But then she started daydreaming, about what it would be like to be on stage, singing for big crowds. She thought back to the night Tandy had taken her to see her idols, The Judds. It had been a night when Lamar had been out of town or he would probably not have allowed it. But sitting in the arena, with all the other fans, watching them sing, made her want it so bad she could taste it.

She thought about what Deacon had said to her about songwriting and telling her truth. The thing was, she didn't feel like she had lived much of a life. When she heard songs on the radio or on her CD player, those songs seemed so much more…something. They made her cry or made her smile or made her feel some complex emotion. Even the song Deacon had played for her had given her a lump in her throat. Thinking about a young man – maybe Deacon – going out on the road, trying to make it on his own, with no one there to help him, no one to go home to, had evoked a picture in her head.

She thought about what her teacher had said, that her poems were like song lyrics. She reached for the notebook where she kept all of that. It had always been her way of writing down how she felt, the loneliness, the awkwardness, the feelings of not fitting in. She had never considered them the same as song lyrics, but she thought she could maybe show them to Deacon the next time she saw him and see what he thought.

She pulled out the sheet of paper where he'd written down his number, along with a number of places she could check out to see if they'd let her perform. _Maybe he's right. Maybe Mr. White is right. Maybe I do need to try to perform wherever I can. Surely someday someone will pay me and then maybe Mr. White will help me get that record deal._ She folded up the piece of paper and got up to tuck it into her purse. Then she sat back down at her desk with the notebook.

She found something she'd written sometime before the end of her freshman year. She'd always felt like such an oddball. She was the only person she knew whose mom had died. She was the only one who liked country music. She liked poetry and the symphony, not things most other kids her age did. Deacon had called her rich – but rich kids could be mean too, even to other rich kids. She smoothed her hand over the page in front of her.

 _You take a deep breath / And you walk through the doors / It's the morning of your very first day / You say hi to your friends you ain't seen in a while / Try and stay out of everybody's way_

 _It's your freshman year / And you're gonna be here for the next four years / In this town / Hoping one of those senior boys / Will wink at you and say, "you know I haven't seen you around, before"…._

 _ **####**_

Deacon walked into the bar where Samantha worked and hopped up on a stool. The bartender knew him there, and knew he was underage, but set a glass with two fingers of whiskey in front of him within seconds of his arrival. Deacon raised the glass in a salute of thanks and downed it in one swallow. The bartender poured him another. He felt a hand slide over his shoulder.

"Hey, lover," came a purr right at his ear.

He turned to see Samantha standing there, her purse draped over her shoulder. "You ready?" he asked. When she nodded, he knocked back the second glass of whiskey and slid off the barstool. He put his arm around Samantha and gave her a kiss. "Let's go then."

He took her hand and led her out the back door and to his truck. As soon as he had pulled out of the alley, she had given him a sexy smile and slid over on the bench seat, wrapping her arm around his neck and nibbling on his earlobe. He rubbed his hand on her leg, but as he was doing it all he could think about was Rayna. Even after they got to her apartment and she was spread-eagled underneath him, the face he saw was Rayna's.

He stayed long enough that it didn't seem like he was bolting, telling her he needed to get up early the next day. He got dressed quickly and hurried out to his truck. Then he sat there, his head on the steering wheel, wondering how he could disentangle himself from Samantha and whether Rayna Jaymes would even be interested in someone like him.


	8. Chapter 8

"Damn it!" Rayna cried, shaking her hand.

Deacon frowned. "What?"

She scowled at him. "These strings," she said, with a pout. "They hurt my fingers."

He shrugged. "You just gotta toughen 'em up." He held out one hand, palm up. "Once you build up calluses you'll be okay."

She stared at his fingers. They looked very rough. She couldn't help but wonder if his girlfriend liked the way they felt on her skin. She wondered if she would like how they felt on her skin. Then she felt herself blush. "I don't want my fingers to look like that," she said stubbornly.

He shrugged again, smiling a little this time. "Ain't no way to getting around it, though, Rayna," he said. "You wanna play the guitar, you gotta do it."

She sighed. "Maybe I don't want to play guitar that much then," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "So you gonna sing without no instrument? Or play piano?"

She laughed. "I think I'd get laughed off a stage if I played piano."

"Maybe not. Just 'cause it ain't the norm don't mean it can't be." He smiled. " _I_ play piano."

She was surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "Not great, but I play. Learned here, at one of them honky tonks on Broadway." He smiled. "So I could play that if I needed to."

She smiled at him. "Maybe you could play guitar for me," she said. "If you have any free time. And if your girlfriend would let you."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Sometime." He pointed at her. "But you could be better." He took a deep breath. "Here. Let me try something." He made a gesture with his hand. "Turn so your back is to me."

She frowned, not sure how that would help, but she did what he asked. After a moment, she felt him against her back and she held her breath. He put his arms around her, a little stiffly, and then put his hands on hers. She thought she was going to pass out and she closed her eyes. He moved her fingers on the strings and she bit her lip as she felt the rough pads of his fingers on hers. She still couldn't breathe, but she felt a strange, hot tingle between her legs. He moved the fingers of her left hand and then on her right. He pressed down on her left hand and then helped her slide the fingers of her right hand over the strings. The chord she heard sounded almost like it did when he showed her. "Oh my God," she whispered, finally able to breathe. She wasn't sure if what she was feeling was the excitement of making the chord sound right or the heat she felt coursing through her body at his closeness, but she felt like she'd been transported up into the air.

"See?" His voice was right at her ear and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. "That's how it feels." Then he jerked back a little, lifting his hands from hers and moving back to where he'd been sitting.

It took her a minute to catch her breath. She could still feel his warmth against her back, could still feel his fingers on hers. She finally turned around to face him, sure her face was red. She couldn't read his expression and he wasn't looking at her, so she couldn't see what was in his eyes. She was feeling things she couldn't explain, didn't understand. "Um, I think I need to go," she mumbled, slowly stepping off the table. She put her guitar back in the case. "Thanks for the lesson," she said, as she stood up.

He looked at her then and what she saw in his eyes she couldn't comprehend. It almost looked like a yearning, but she couldn't be sure. "Sure," he said. He cleared his throat. "You ever tried playing at one of those places I mentioned?" She shook her head, unable to speak. "Try Robert's, in the afternoon. I'll put in a word for you."

She nodded. "Okay. Thanks." She took a deep breath. "Can we…can we still do this?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I do." She could almost feel perspiration rolling down her back. It wasn't that hot, so it confused her. "Um, I'll try to come by Robert's too." She wasn't sure exactly how she'd manage that, but she'd figure it out. She raised her hand up in a wave. "Uh, I'll see you later." She didn't even wait for him to respond before turning and scurrying off to her car.

 _ **####**_

He really wasn't sure what to make of Rayna Jaymes. Sometimes she seemed so much older than sixteen, but then other times she seemed so skittish and naïve. He had to admit, though, that being so close to her left him off balance. He had tried to put her out of his head, just like he'd buried that song he'd written about her. She was too young. He already had a girlfriend. He wasn't good enough for someone like her anyway. He didn't need the complication. He'd told himself all of those things, and more, but he still couldn't erase her from his mind.

He watched her walk away. He thought he probably shouldn't have sat so close to her. He'd probably scared her. He'd definitely scared himself a little. He liked how she'd felt, leaning against him, his arms around her. He felt sure she'd notice he was practically shaking and he wondered if she could hear his heart thudding in his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He'd never known anyone like her before and all he wanted was to be with her every second of every day.

* * *

When he went to work the next day, he sought out the booker. "Matt, you got a minute?" he asked, as he walked into the office.

Matt looked up. "Hey there, Deacon, what's going on?"

Deacon shook his head. "Not much." He let out a sharp laugh. "I was hoping you'd do me a favor."

"If I can."

"A friend of mine may come by. I mean, I told her to come by and see if she could do an afternoon set. She's just starting out and she needs some experience."

"There's no pay but tips, you know."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I done told her that too. She just needs to get up on a stage in front of people."

Matt nodded. "Sure. What's her name?"

"Rayna Jaymes."

Matt laughed. "Well, if that's not a good old country singer name, I don't know what is." He looked at Deacon closely. "How do you know her?"

"Heard her sing at the Bluebird a couple times. She's good. Pretty. I think you'd like her."

"Well, a pretty girl will sure bring people in. And if she's a good singer, even better." He slapped Deacon on the shoulder. "Sure, we can do that." He peered at him curiously. "I thought you had a girlfriend."

Deacon shook his head. "She ain't my girlfriend. She's just a…friend. And teaching her some guitar."

Matt just nodded. "Okay, well, tell her to stop by."

As Matt walked off, Deacon breathed out. Now he hoped Rayna really did come by.

 **####**

Tandy walked down the hall to her sister's room. She peeked in first and saw Rayna sitting in a chair, facing the window, her guitar on her lap. She winced a little as she listened to her sister's hesitant chords, some of which sounded, even to her unpracticed ear, a little off. She wondered sometimes why it was so important to Rayna to learn to play the guitar, when she was so accomplished on the piano. She heard Rayna stop and make a frustrated sound and took the opportunity to knock lightly on the door jamb.

Rayna whirled around and a smile broke out across her face when she saw her sister. "Tandy!" she exclaimed, standing up and almost tossing the guitar on her bed. She ran over and threw her arms around Tandy's neck. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Tandy hugged her hard. "Me too, sweetheart." She stepped back and looked at her sister, thinking something was different about her, but she wasn't sure what. "I'm so sorry not to have been around, but, you know, midterms and all. And then spring break down in Destin." She smiled. "What have you been up to?"

Rayna rolled her eyes. "School mostly. But working on my music too."

Tandy looked at her carefully. "You talked to that man again? What was his name, Watson?" She, of course, knew his name like it was her own, but she didn't want to tip off Rayna.

Rayna laughed. " _Watty_. And no, I haven't. I think he expects me to get out and play other places first."

Tandy raised her eyebrows. "And have you?"

Rayna shook her head. "Not yet."

Tandy reached for her hand. "Listen, I thought we could go to Elliston's and get a milk shake and you can tell me all about what you're doing. Can I steal you away from homework and music for a little while?"

"Absolutely!" Rayna squealed. She ran to get her purse and then followed her sister out of her bedroom.

* * *

When they were settled into the booth – Tandy with her strawberry malt and Rayna with her chocolate milkshake – Tandy picked back up on the music conversation. "So, anymore open mics?" she asked.

Rayna shook her head. "Mr. White – Watty – said to play in some other places first. Deacon suggested several places I could try but I just haven't worked up the courage."

Tandy frowned. "Who's Deacon again?"

Rayna rolled her eyes. "I told you. I met him at the Bluebird. He's helping me with the guitar." Tandy couldn't help but think that if this Deacon person was helping her sister with her guitar skills, he wasn't doing a particularly good job. "Anyway, he suggested Robert's."

"Robert's? What's that? A bar?" That made Tandy nervous.

"A honky tonk. On Broadway."

"Oh, sweetie, I don't know about that. Broadway's not a very nice area. Those honky tonks and places like that are pretty seedy. You surely don't want to be down there at night."

Rayna sucked on her straw, then looked up at her sister, and winced. "Ah. Brain freeze!" After a moment, she continued. "Not at night. In the afternoon. Deacon says they don't pay anything, but you can get tips if you're good. But Mr. White thinks places like that would be good. And Deacon said the park would be a good place."

"The park? You mean like where you met him? Shelby Bottoms? Oh, Rayna, no."

Rayna scowled. "If I'm gonna follow my dreams, Tandy, I have to. I have to play wherever I can, whenever I can. That's what Deacon said."

Tandy raised an eyebrow. "And does this Deacon have a record deal? Or get paid to perform?"

Rayna looked down. "Well, no. At least not a record deal." She looked back at her sister. Tandy thought she looked a little defiant. "I don't know if he gets paying gigs. Maybe. He and his sister are really good."

Tandy ran her straw around the edge of her glass. "I'm just not so sure you should be down on Broadway, Rayna. Surely there are other places you could go. And can't you just go back to the Bluebird?"

Rayna shrugged. "I could, but I think I need to branch out. See what else I can do. And write more songs. I'm not so good at that yet, but I have a couple. And I'm working on a new one."

"You need to be careful, sweetie. I don't know if Mr. White and Deacon have the same desire to protect you that I do."

Rayna frowned. "I don't need to be protected, Tandy. I can do this."

Tandy was quiet then. Her sister was definitely stubborn, to a fault, and she knew it would be hard to change Rayna's mind, once she was set on something. She knew her sister had a beautiful voice and she had no doubt she could be a performer, but she wasn't so sure Rayna knew just what it would take. And she also wasn't sure Rayna was listening to the right people. But she also knew that if she pushed too hard, Rayna would do what she wanted anyway and just not tell her, so she decided the better thing to do was seem okay with things, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on her.

 _ **####**_

It had been a long day. It was one of the rare days he worked at the diner during breakfast and lunch, then went straight to Robert's. It was practically dusk when he got back to the little studio apartment. When he walked in the door, the lights were out. He thought maybe Beverly was out, but then he saw her hunched over the little table near the kitchenette, her legs tucked up underneath her. He frowned, flipping on the kitchen light.

Beverly looked up at him then and he could tell she'd been crying. "What's up, Bev?" he asked.

She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. "Doug called." Doug O'Connor was her boyfriend. At least he had been until they moved to Nashville. Doug had not been okay with Beverly leaving and had told her if she did, he might not be waiting for her. He thought his sister was probably better off without him, but it usually set her off if he said so, so he didn't.

He steeled himself. "What did he want?"

Tears started rolling down her face. "I think he's found someone else," she wailed.

It was all he could do to not roll his eyes. He was sure that Beverly was exaggerating somehow. "What makes you think so?" he made himself ask.

She looked up at him and scowled. "Because he was so distant, Deacon. Hardly said a word to me. So vague."

He was confused. "I thought you said he called you."

She waved her hand in the air. "It doesn't matter. But I can't lose him, Deacon."

He sighed. "What does that even mean, Beverly? I thought we was here to follow our dream. Now what?"

"I want to go home," she cried.

He sighed and then walked over to sit across from her at the table. "How you planning to get home, Bev? And when you coming back?"

"I thought you'd take me."

He shook his head. "I can't leave. I got work." He frowned. "'Sides, I don't wanna go back there. Told you I was done with Natchez when we left."

She rolled her eyes. "He's gone, Deacon. Nothing to be afraid of now. And we're not getting anywhere here anyway. We can find places to play at home."

He felt the old anger and fear rising up inside him as he listened to her. He tried breathing in and out slowly, as the anxiety started to tighten his chest. He tried to stay calm. "I don't wanna go back to Natchez, Beverly," he said.

She slammed her hand down on the table. "And I need to get home. So what, you're gonna just stick me on a bus and hope I don't get raped or robbed or worse on the way?"

He breathed in. His sister was so dramatic. "Beverly, none of that's gonna happen. You're being crazy." He realized as soon as the word was out of his mouth that she was going to explode. He knew she had some of the same tendencies their mother had had, the same huge mood swings, alternating between highs and lows, the highs usually manifesting themselves as anger.

"I'm not crazy, Deacon!" she shouted. "Stop saying that! I'm just homesick, which I can't believe you don't understand." Then she got a snarky look on her face. "Oh, wait. It's that little princess, isn't it? You're still thinking you've got a chance with _her_ , don't you, baby brother?"

He pushed back from the table, knocking the chair over. "You don't know nothing, Bev!" he shouted, pointing at her.

She got up and got in his face. "I'm not afraid of you, baby brother!" she shouted back. "You're all talk and no action." She poked him in the chest and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she made a noise. "Stop it!" she cried. "That hurts!"

He dropped her hand and stepped back, turning away from her and rubbing his hands over his face. He hadn't meant to do that. "I can't go back there," he said.

"Please take me home," she begged.

He turned back to face her and saw the neediness on her face. He struggled to keep his emotions under control. She was right – their father was long gone – but he didn't like the thought that the cruel, angry man they'd been raised by could come back at any time. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd left and then come back, worse than ever. But the two of them had taken care of each other their whole lives and he hated seeing her unhappy. "I ain't staying," he whispered.

 _ **####**_

Rayna felt sick to her stomach. She had driven downtown and edged down along Broadway, looking at the buildings, the honky tonks, the bars. She rarely came downtown – she still remembered her mom bringing Tandy and her to see Santa at the downtown Castner-Knott's though – and a lot had changed, particularly down on lower Broad. While there was more office construction a little farther west, this part of downtown, close to the river, had been allowed to deteriorate. There were probably as many empty storefronts as there were open businesses.

It wasn't the state of the area that caused her anxiety, though. It was the idea of getting on a stage and performing all alone for thirty minutes. She had figured out a set list – mostly cover songs – but this would be different than standing on a stage at the Bluebird or someplace else like if for an open mic, singing two to three songs, in between many other hopefuls. This would be her, standing on the stage, all by herself, to succeed or fail.

She kept breathing in and out, trying to calm her nerves. She almost drove back home, but she thought about how her father had belittled her dreams and how Tandy seemed so cautious. She thought about Mr. White's confidence that she could do this. And then she thought about Deacon's encouragement. She finally got out of her car and got her guitar case out of the trunk and headed for the sidewalk that fronted all the honky tonks. She had driven past, so she knew exactly where it was located. She walked down the sidewalk, past Legends and Tootsie's, and then just past Layla's, there it was. She stood at the door for a moment before she walked in.

Someone was already on stage and so she stood off to the side and watched, fascinated by the whole thing. She felt the anxiety start to fade and an excitement begin to build.

"Can I help you?"

She turned to see a young woman, maybe a little older than Tandy, standing there, obviously a server. She smiled. "I was told that I might be able to do a set, if I came by," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

The server smiled. "Let me get Matt out here. Hold tight." Then she turned and walked towards the back of the venue. Rayna watched her until she disappeared in the back, then turned back to the young man who was on the stage. She found a table and sat down, letting herself get lost in the music and feeling again like maybe this was truly where she belonged.

* * *

She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, when the young man on stage finally packed up his guitar and headed off the stage. She looked around then, for the server, for someone named Matt, but didn't see anyone other than the other patrons in the bar. She was starting to get annoyed when she saw Deacon walk out from the back. He was walking in one direction when he saw her and then turned and headed for her.

"Hey, Rayna," he said, with a smile.

She stood up, feeling confused. "Deacon. What are you doing here?"

He put his hands on his hips and looked a little guilty. "Uh, I work here."

She narrowed her eyes. "You work here? I don't understand. You told me to try this place."

He nodded. "Yeah, I did. 'Cause I know the guy who books people."

"Why didn't you tell me you worked here?"

"Does it make a difference? I mean, I ain't the one booking people. I just told you about it and I told the guy who books people. That you were good. If you came in."

She looked around then. "Well, where is he? I've been waiting here for…" – again, she wasn't sure how long she'd been there – "…well, for a while, and he hasn't come out."

He looked towards the back, then back at her. "Just get up there," he said, nodding towards the stage. "I know we don't got no one else coming in yet, so get up there."

She took a deep breath. "Won't he get mad?"

He gestured towards the door. "See those people?" She looked and saw people stick their heads in the door, then leave. She looked back at him. "If there's someone on stage, they'll come in. And buy beer and food and all that. If there's no one up there, they don't."

She frowned. "I don't understand."

He shook his head. "Get up there." He tapped her arm. "Go on."

She hesitated for a moment, then did as he told her. She walked up on the stage and set her guitar case on a luggage rack. When she got the guitar out and put the strap over her shoulder, she walked up to the mic. She adjusted it and then looked around, finding Deacon over by the sound board. He nodded for her to go ahead. She swallowed hard and looked around the place. It was mid-afternoon, so it wasn't full, but those who were there were looking at her expectantly.

She took a deep breath and started to play, knowing the guitar sounded not as good as she would have liked, but hoping that her cover of the Judds' song would make them overlook it.

 _Sittin in the porch swing / Listenin' to the light rain / Beatin' on the tin roof / Baby, just a-me and you / Rockin' with the rhythm of the rain_

 _Slide on over / Baby hold me closer / Movin' to and fro / Just swayin' like a slow freight train / Rockin' with the rhythm of the rain_

As she started the chorus, she saw Deacon come up on stage. He came up behind her and took her guitar away, picking up where she left off, and leaning in to harmonize with her as she continued to sing. She couldn't help but feel appreciative and it made her more relaxed and able to concentrate on singing.

* * *

As her set wore on, she realized she was enjoying herself, and she noticed the crowd got larger the longer she went on. By the time she finished, the bar was about three-quarters' full and she got a loud, appreciative response when she came off the stage.

She turned to Deacon then, the excitement pulsing through her. "Oh my God, that was amazing!" she cried.

"You were great, Rayna," he said with a smile, handing her back her guitar.

She smiled shyly at him. "Thank you for rescuing me," she said.

He shrugged and bit his lip. "Figured you'd do better just concentrating on the songs," he said.

"That your way of telling me I still suck on the guitar?" she asked.

He turned a little red and she had to smile at his discomfort. "No, I mean, um…." He stumbled over his words and she found it kind of endearing.

She put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. I know I'm not really very good." She took a deep breath. "I'd still like to get better, but I wouldn't mind if you bailed me out again sometime."

He looked relieved and smiled a little shyly and she felt her heart racing. "If I can, I will," he said. She looked at him for a moment, trying to decide what to say next. She felt like she couldn't breathe. "Um, hey, I gotta get back to work," he said then, breaking the silence.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, of course. Listen, thanks again for helping me out." She tightened her grip on her guitar. "We still on for tomorrow?"

He looked thoughtful. "Yeah, we are. But I might have to go out of town for little bit."

She perked up. "A gig?"

He shook his head. "Nah, nothing like that." He started to move towards the sound board. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rayna." And then she watched as he walked away from her. She couldn't help but feel good about how the afternoon had turned out. The thrill of performing on a stage, feeling like she was really an artist, was exhilarating and thrilling. She hurried back up the steps and put her guitar in its case and then, with a last look around the place, she turned and walked out the door.

 _ **####**_

He was late getting to the park and she was sitting on the table waiting for him. He slowed his steps as he got closer. She smiled as he approached. "Hey, Rayna, I'm sorry," he said as he sat down next to her. "I got away late from work." That wasn't actually true. Beverly was still badgering him to take her back to Natchez and they'd been fighting about it again.

Rayna shrugged. "It's okay. You're pretty much on time. I was early." She squeezed her hands into fists and practically bounced on the table. "That was so neat yesterday, Deacon!" she cried. "I almost couldn't sleep last night, I was still so buzzed."

He couldn't help but smile at her excitement. She'd really been great. "You did great, Rayna," he said. "You gonna keep doing it?"

She nodded. "I am. I have to do it when my daddy isn't home but yeah, I will. Do you think they'd let me come back to Robert's?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I know they will. Matt felt bad about missing you, but he said come back anytime."

"If I do, would you play guitar for me?"

He sighed. "If I can, but I'm gonna be gone for a few days and then, well, I don't know if they'll keep me on there."

She frowned. "What do you mean? Did you get in trouble for helping me out? And why do you have to leave?"

He sat forward on the table and looked out over the field in front of them. "I gotta take Beverly back home. Don't know how long I'll be gone, so I might not have that job when I get back."

"Why do you have to take her?"

He sighed and put his head down. "She's afraid to ride a bus by herself." He looked over at Rayna then. "She gets kinda skittish 'bout things. Scared. Nervous. She can get kinda all, I don't know, outta control sometimes."

"I don't understand."

He breathed in slowly. He didn't want to tell her too much, because he didn't want her to be scared off. She might think he wasn't someone she wanted to be around, if she knew what kind of life he'd had. He shrugged. "It was hard, growing up. My dad drank a lot and my mom, well, she was sick sometimes, so we kinda got, um, left on our own. So Beverly just sorta gets nervous on her own." He couldn't decide if the look on Rayna's face was pity or distaste.

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "That must've been hard."

He nodded. "Sometimes." He took a deep breath and let it out. "But I can't just send her off by herself. I gotta take care of her. So anyway…."

She smiled encouragingly. "You're a good brother. I hope she appreciates that."

He laughed a little, thinking Beverly definitely did _not_ appreciate him. "I don't know about that."

"How long will you be gone? And you _are_ coming back, right?"

He nodded. "I'm coming back. I hope I ain't gone but a couple days. Long enough to drive her down and come back. But I can't be sure. I gotta be sure she's okay."

"Is she not coming back with you?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. She's got a boyfriend, had a boyfriend, I ain't sure what he is, but she thinks she's gotta go back. So it depends."

"You said your mom died. So is your dad still in Natchez? Maybe he could come get her."

He felt his blood instantly boil at the mention of his dad, but he didn't want to share that with Rayna. Instinctively, he knew she didn't need to know all of that. At least not yet. He shook his head. "He left town, so it's on me." He didn't want to keep going down that path, so he changed the subject. "You written anymore?"

She looked a little surprised by the change in topic, but she smiled anyway. "One of my teachers told me not too long ago that my poetry would make good songs, so I went back and looked at some of that and found something I could start with." She looked a little shy and then she reached into her backpack and pulled out a notebook. "I worked on it a little bit but I'm stuck a little on the music."

He nodded towards the notebook. "You wanna play what you got? Maybe I could help."

She looked hesitant. "It might be terrible."

He grinned. "I bet it won't. But you gotta put it out there sometime. Might as well be now."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I guess." She pulled out her guitar and settled it on her lap, then looked back at him. "Don't laugh if I don't get the chords right."

He shook his head. "I won't."

She leaned over her guitar and bit down on her lip as she hesitantly started the melody. He could hear when she missed it, but he couldn't help but feel himself being drawn to her as she sang what she'd written. He had some ideas on how she could tighten it up, but he wanted to wait until she had it finished. She stopped suddenly and looked at him shyly. "I just wrote the chorus," she said, and went on.

' _Cause when you're fifteen / Somebody tells you they love you / You're gonna believe them / And when you're fifteen / Feeling like there's nothing to figure out_

 _Count to ten / Take it in / This is life before you know who you're gonna be / At fifteen_

She stopped and looked at him, waiting.

He smiled. "That's pretty damn good, Rayna Jaymes. I can sure help you on the music, if you want. Can't wait to see how you finish it." He thought then that, for the rest of his life, he would never know anything more special than the look of gratitude and hope he saw on her face and in her smile just then.


	9. Chapter 9

He was on Highway 61, approximately a half hour outside of Natchez. The sun was beating down on the old truck. The windows were open, which helped it feel less stifling inside. He glanced over to the passenger seat. Beverly was still asleep, her head leaning against a pillow, her hair flying out the window in the draft. He focused back on the road. The closer they got, the more anxious he became. He kept reminding himself not to worry. Gideon Claybourne was long gone. He'd last left the house when Deacon had just turned seventeen, right after his mom died. The same time he and Beverly had left for Nashville.

He tried not to feel anxious, but it was hard not to. It was sort of inbred in him, somehow, at this point in his life. As the weeks and months and now years had passed, his memories of growing up were still mostly bad ones. He had realized, more and more, that what his life – his and Beverly's – had been was not the norm. He thought about Rayna, with her school uniform or her nice regular clothes, the nice guitar, and the convertible, and he knew her life had been so much better than his. Even if her mama had died when she was young, it was clear to him that she'd had a good life. A comfortable life. One where she didn't worry about whether or not she'd get hit or if her dad was going to be in a good mood or not when he came home.

He sighed.

"How close are we?" came Beverly's sleepy voice.

He looked over at her and she smiled a hazy smile. He thought about the fact that, when she first woke up, she was usually much nicer than she was any other time of the day. He smiled a little. "Not far," he said. He cleared his throat. "Where you want me to take you?"

She sat up then, gathering the pillow in her arms and hugging it to her chest. "I don't know." She looked out the side window, then back at him. "I guess the house is still there, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Probably. Ain't nobody living there though, so it probably ain't gonna be in good shape."

"You're probably right. And I'm guessing no electric or water or anything like that." She looked back at him. "Maybe a motel or something?"

He breathed in. "Beverly, I ain't staying but just the one night. I done told you that already. I gotta get back."

She scowled at him. "I know you _said_ that, Deacon, but you can't just leave me here. You have to stay until I've got things set up."

He frowned. "No, Beverly, I don't got to do that. If you wanna stay, that's on you. _You_ figure it out."

She pointed then. "There," she cried out. "Red Roof Inn. Stop there." He saw it, but he kept driving. She whipped around to look at him. "What are you doing?"

He set his jaw. "I'm taking you to Doug's. Might as well find out what's what. So I can leave."

"Deacon, he doesn't know I'm coming!"

He glanced over at her. "Then it's better you know this way. If he's got someone, now you'll know." She scowled and then slumped down in the seat, but she didn't say another word. And he kept on driving.

 _ **####**_

Rayna walked upstairs with her guitar. She'd gone to Robert's again, but Deacon hadn't been there this time. She had,finally seen Matt, the absent booker from her first time. He told her Deacon was taking a few days off and she supposed it was to take his sister home, like he said. Matt had let her do a thirty minute set, which turned into a forty-five minute set, in spite of the fact that she had to play her own guitar accompaniment. She'd had good response again and he had told her to come back as often as she liked.

She wondered when Deacon would be back. Or _if_ he would be back. He had told her he really didn't want to go and didn't want to leave his sister until he knew she was okay. He really seemed to be a good person, a caring person, if he would go somewhere he didn't want to go and stay longer than he wanted, so he could take care of his sister. She hoped he came back though. Soon.

She laid back on her bed, with her hands crossed over her chest. She still didn't know a whole lot about Deacon. She knew he had a sister, that he was a good singer and a great guitar player. He was from Mississippi – Natchez – and he lived on the east side of Nashville. He had a girlfriend. She sighed. She sort of hated that he had a girlfriend, although she probably was pretty and nice. He had the sweetest eyes and the best smile and his arms around her had made her feel safe and protected. He was a little shy, but he felt deeply, she could tell. She felt butterflies in her stomach and that strange fullness between her legs and she rolled over onto her side. Her feelings scared her, mainly because she didn't know what they meant. She'd never really had a boyfriend, so she didn't know what you were supposed to feel.

Of course, he wasn't her boyfriend, but she knew she had feelings for him, feelings she couldn't make go away. She thought maybe he had some feelings for her too. There was something in the way he looked at her, something in his eyes, that told her he liked her far more than just as a girl he was teaching guitar to. He didn't make her afraid or nervous, like he'd take advantage of her. It really seemed like he cared about her, even though he didn't know her any better than she knew him.

If they stuck to their schedule, the next time she met him for a guitar lesson would be in two days. She thought about trying to call him, to see if he was back in Nashville. She got up then and sat up on her bed, looking at the phone on the bedside table. This was when she was glad her father had allowed her to have a phone in her room. It wasn't her own number, but it still meant she could have some relative privacy, not that she used it often. She reached for the receiver, then pulled her hand back. She wasn't sure why it made her so nervous, but it did.

Finally she picked up the receiver. She knew the number by heart and she punched it in, then raised the receiver to her ear. Deacon didn't have an answering machine, she knew, and she let it ring ten times before deciding to hang up. Either he wasn't home or he wasn't back. She just wished she knew for sure.

* * *

That night she dreamt about standing on stage, in front of thousands of people. She was in a sparkly dress and high heels. She didn't hear the words she was singing, but she knew that everyone in front of her was singing along. And when she glanced to one side, she saw Deacon, playing his guitar, smiling at her. When it was all over, she walked off the stage and he came up behind her, putting his arm around her shoulder and kissing her on the cheek. "You killed it, Rayna," he said, a huge grin on his face. "You're on top of the world."

She felt like she was being lifted off the ground, that her body was tingling all over. The sound of the crowd felt like it was swirling all around her, like the winds of a hurricane. She looked into Deacon's eyes and they were like fireworks. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She leaned in and she kissed him and she felt like she was going to explode inside. Lights were flashing and drums were beating and yet she also felt a little terrified, like she had no idea what was going to happen next.

Suddenly her eyes were wide open and she sat up in the bed, breathing hard. There was a roar in her ears and her heart was pounding and she had that crazy feeling all through her body, the one that seemed to center in her lower abdomen. Lightning flashed just then, lighting up the room, and she looked over towards the window, just in time for the crash of thunder, loud enough that it felt like it was shaking the whole house.

She scrambled out of bed and ran towards the window, pulling back the curtain just along the edge. She could see the rain falling in torrents, the lightning and thunder crashing all around. She closed her eyes tight, putting her hands over her ears.

There was a frantic knocking on her door and she looked over. "Miss Rayna? Miss Rayna?" she heard Vernice's voice on the other side of the door. "You okay, girl?"

She hurried over to the door and opened it. "I'm okay," she nodded, wincing as the lightning and thunder came again almost simultaneously.

Vernice looked at her with a worried expression on her face. "It's a bad one, Miss Rayna. You sure you don't wanna come downstairs, I make you some tea?" she asked.

She started to say no, but then she thought she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until it was over. She nodded and opened the door wider. "Yes, that sounds nice." Vernice reached for her hand, much like she had when Rayna was a little girl, and led her down the hall and downstairs to the kitchen.

As she sat at the kitchen table, with the lights on, watching Vernice busy at the stove, the storm didn't seem so scary. She could still hear the pouring rain, but it seemed like the thunder was tapering off just a touch. "I 'member how you was always so scared of them thunderstorms, Miss Rayna," Vernice was saying. "I'd find you all curled up with Miss Tandy and you'd be crying, poor baby."

Rayna smiled. "Well, I don't cry anymore." Vernice turned then and poured hot water into the tea cup in front of Rayna and then one for herself. "Thanks, Vernice." She reached for the sugar and put two spoonfuls in her tea, along with a touch of cream. She stirred the hot tea while she waited for it to cool. "I was having the best dream when the storm woke me up."

Vernice smiled at her. "What you dreaming about, girl?" she asked.

Rayna put the spoon down and took a tiny sip of tea. It was still a little hot. "I was on stage, singing for thousands of people. It felt electric, like nothing I've ever felt before. I felt like I was on such a high."

"That's what you want to do, ain't it, girl? Sing on stage? Like your mama wanted you to?"

Rayna nodded. "I do." She sighed. "Daddy doesn't want me to, but I just feel like I have to, you know?"

Vernice nodded. "I do know. Baby, you gotta do what you're led to. That's what I told my Coleman and I done told Miss Tandy the same thing, though she didn't need me to tell her." She smiled. "Your mama would want you to follow your dream, baby. You know that."

"I do know that. And I will. And even though Daddy doesn't want me to, I do have people helping me. People who believe in me." She thought about the fact that Deacon had been there in her dream. It had felt like two pieces of a puzzle, fitted together perfectly, and she wondered if it was just a dream or maybe a premonition. She wondered yet again when he would come back to Nashville. Or if he would.

 _ **####**_

Deacon drove down the dirt road that led to Doug O'Connor's place. Beverly was sitting as far away from him as she could, her hands crossed over her waist, and a scowl on her face, not speaking. Doug had been two years ahead of Beverly in school. He'd been a pretty popular boy, on the school baseball team. He and Beverly had had an on again off again relationship until Beverly left Natchez. At first he'd told her he'd follow her to Nashville, but that never happened. These days he was a mechanic and he hung out in bars with his old friends.

Deacon pulled up to the little house halfway down the dirt road, a few miles outside of town. It was surprisingly neat, although there were several cars on the gravel drive and a mechanic's shed out back, with several more cars. As he pulled down the drive, a muscular blond man walked out from inside the shed, wearing grease spattered jeans and a torn Ole Miss t-shirt, carrying a wrench. Deacon parked the truck and looked over at Beverly. "There he is, Bev," he said. She didn't budge, so Deacon got out of the truck.

"Deacon Claybourne," Doug said, a crooked smile crossing his face. "What the hell are you doing back in Natchez?"

Deacon took a few steps towards the other man and nodded towards his truck. "Beverly wanted to come back. See you," he said.

The other man peered into the truck. "She did, did she?" He walked around towards the passenger side of the truck. "Beverly Claybourne, get the hell out of the truck," he said.

Slowly the door opened and Beverly got out, but she stood by the truck. "I thought you were coming to Nashville, Doug," she said. "What happened?" Deacon wondered why she was rehashing old news. She'd known for a long time now that Doug wasn't coming to Nashville.

Doug shrugged. "Got a good business here, Bev. Don't need to go to Nashville." He peered at her. "You back to stay? Or just checking up on me?"

Beverly eyed him carefully. "Do you want me back?"

Doug shrugged again. "Up to you, Bev." Then he turned and headed back for the garage.

Beverly looked at Deacon, as if expecting some answer. He raised his hands up. "What are you gonna do, Bev?" he asked. "I told you I ain't staying here. You coming with me or you staying?"

She hesitated for a moment. She looked in the direction Doug went, then back at her brother. "Will you come back for me tomorrow? If I stay here?"

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll come back out here first thing in the morning. If you wanna go back to Nashville, be ready." He got in the truck and slid across, reaching out to shut the door.

"Wait!" she cried, and opened the door back up. But instead of getting in, she grabbed her things and then shut the door again. Then she turned and headed in the same direction as Doug. He watched her for a minute, then started the truck and headed back to town.

* * *

The next day he was headed back to Nashville, without Beverly. He wasn't really surprised, but he was disappointed. They were supposed to be doing this together, that had been the plan. Now he'd have to make it on his own.

 _ **####**_

Rayna left the cafeteria before lunch period was up and went to the pay phones up near the school entrance. She put in her quarter and punched in Deacon's number. She expected it to, yet again, ring with no answer. This was the fourth day she'd tried, the day they normally met at the park. She was surprised when, at the seventh ring, he answered.

"Hello," he said, sounding like he'd been asleep.

"Deacon? It's Rayna," she said.

"Rayna? Oh, hey," he replied.

"Did I wake you up?"

He laughed softly. "Um, yeah, you did. Sorry."

"So you came back."

"I did. Told you I would."

"Well, but I didn't know when." She paused. "I played at Robert's again."

"I heard. Matt said you was great. You coming back?"

She smiled. "I will. But I was calling to see if we were on for today. Well, actually I was calling to see if you were back, but also to see if we could do a lesson."

"Sure we can. Same time?"

"Yeah, if that's okay."

"I'm looking forward to it, Rayna Jaymes."

She hung up the phone and hugged herself, smiling. The day had just gotten better.

* * *

Unfortunately, not even five minutes after she got to the park, it started to rain. They ran to her car and she put up the top, but not before the inside got wet. "Oh, no," she wailed, as they stood under her umbrella. "How am I supposed to drive home with the seat all wet?"

"You don't have no blanket or nothing?" he asked, a concerned look on his face. She shook her head. "Well, uh, you wanna wait out the rain in my truck?"

She looked at him. "Do _you_ have a blanket or something?" she asked.

"Nah, sorry. But at least it's dry." He smirked.

She made a face. "I guess I'll have to. For now anyway." She walked with him to his truck and he opened the door to let her in, then took her umbrella and hustled around to the driver's side. They sat, looking out the windshield, as the rain picked up. She looked over at him. "Do you have to get to work or something? Or a date?"

He looked at her. "Nah."

"You didn't lose your job or anything, did you?"

"Nope. I didn't miss but one shift at the diner, turned out."

"So how come your sister didn't come back?"

"She stayed with her boyfriend."

She smiled a little. "You don't seem too happy about that."

He shrugged. "I don't know. He just ain't really nothing special. Not anymore anyway. But Beverly, well, she gets scared about stuff and I think she was just, well, I don't really know what she thought. She might change her mind tomorrow, wanna come back."

She turned and leaned back against the car door, facing him. "What made you come to Nashville?"

"Same as you. Wanted to perform on stage, get a record deal, tour and stuff. Write songs. That kinda thing."

She thought back to their conversation before. "You said you had kind of a hard life in Natchez. Is that part of why you came?"

He seemed to bristle a bit. "It was about the music," he said stiffly.

She sensed she'd hit a nerve, albeit unintentionally. She reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you said your mom died. And that she was sick. So I just thought, you know."

He sat back and closed his eyes for a second. Then he breathed out. "It wasn't just that. My dad was, well, he was kind of a bad man."

She frowned. "What do you mean? Was he a criminal or something?"

He shook his head and looked at her. "He was a drunk. A mean drunk. I spent most of the time trying to stay out of his way."

That both surprised her and made her want to reach out and hug him at the same time. "That's terrible, Deacon."

He stared out the windshield. "We never knew what he'd be like when he came home. Most of the time it was bad." He breathed in, then sighed, looking down at his lap. "He used to hit us. A lot. Specially my mom."

She felt tears in her eyes and she slid over closer so she could take his hand in hers. "I can't even imagine that. It had to be scary, living like that."

He looked at her, then pulled his hand from hers. "It was. Sometimes." He breathed in. "But, you know, he was my dad, and there was times when I wanted to just be with him. Do stuff you do with a dad. You know about that."

She looked down at her hands. "I don't know, Deacon." She looked back at him. "Daddy never hit us, but he was still scary. I know, when I was a little girl, that I wasn't afraid of him. And I'm not afraid of him now. Not really. But he's cold and he can be hateful. He's been like that for a long time, even since before my mom died." She reached out and put her hand on his arm again. "I know that's nothing like what you probably went through though." He looked at her and it took her breath away to see the hurt and pain in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Deacon. I really am."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry I told you. Now you'll just think I'm, you know, pathetic, or something."

"I don't think that at all. Truly." She smiled a little. "Thank you for sharing it with me. For feeling like you could." She breathed in. "I mean, we're friends, right?" He nodded. "Friends should be able to tell each other things." She rubbed his hand with hers.

The air seemed heavy all of a sudden. The way he was looking at her, the way it made her feel. She felt like she couldn't breathe and like her skin was on fire. She could still see the hurt in his eyes, but she also saw something that seemed like gratitude. She could see him swallow and she wondered if he might kiss her. But then he looked down and slowly pulled his hand from hers, then looked out the windshield again. "It's stopped raining," he said.

She turned to look. "Yeah, it has," she said softly. "I guess I should go." She slid back over on the seat and put her hand on the door handle. Then she looked back at him. "My father's going to be out of town over the weekend. Do you have any time we could meet and do a make-up?"

He looked at her and nodded. "Sunday afternoon."

She smiled. "I'd like that. And maybe you can help me with some writing." He nodded. "And I'd love to hear more of your songs."

He bit down on his lip and then he smiled. "Sounds good. One?"

She nodded. "I'll see you then." And then she let herself out of the truck and headed for her car.

 _ **####**_

He sat and watched as she hurried across the wet pavement. He watched as she got into her car and drove out of the park. He sat long after he could no longer see her. He thought about what he had shared with her, about his life. He'd really never shared that with anyone else before, not even Samantha. He still wasn't completely sure why he felt comfortable sharing with Rayna, although comfortable was not really the right word. He'd just felt like he _could_ share it with her, that somehow she wouldn't judge him, even though he couldn't even imagine her knowing what that kind of life was all about. He wasn't completely sure if she was being compassionate or just pitied him, but he'd felt a little like she understood him better.

He had wanted to kiss her. But he didn't want to scare her. The touch of her hand on his had been electric and he'd felt a little overwhelmed by it. He wasn't completely sure, but he thought she might have felt the same way. He breathed in deeply and rubbed his hands over his face. What he did know, and he couldn't have articulated why he felt this way, was that Rayna Jaymes was going to be an important part of his life from this point on. He knew it as surely as he knew he would breathe every day.

* * *

Sunday was a bright, sunny day and he was waiting for Rayna at the park. He hoped she showed up, hoped he hadn't scared her away, and so he felt a sense of relief when he saw her car drive up. Since it was the weekend, she was wearing cut off shorts and a Vanderbilt t-shirt, along with a pair of well-worn boots, the ones he remembered her wearing at the Bluebird. He had to take a deep breath when he saw her. Her legs were long and lean and she had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. As she hopped up on the table, he saw that she wasn't wearing makeup, but he thought she looked even prettier without it. She smiled and he saw the freckles dancing across her nose, the sun bouncing off her reddish gold hair, lighting up her whole face.

"I'm so glad it's a nice day," she said.

He nodded. "Me too." He cleared his throat. "So, I was wondering if you might wanna go to an open mic with me tomorrow."

She frowned slightly. "I thought I wasn't supposed to be doing those anymore."

He shrugged. "Well, now that I'm on my own, I need to get out there as a solo. You can meet me there, if you want. You don't gotta perform."

"Where is it?"

"Place called Shotgun Sally's. Down in Murfreesboro."

She wrinkled her nose. "That's a long way from here."

He felt his heart sink a little. "It's okay. You don't gotta come."

She looked a little pensive and she took the time to take her guitar out of the case. She turned back to him. "What time is it?"

"Six. So early. You know, like the Bluebird. 'Fore the people they gotta pay."

She bit her lip. "I guess I could. Daddy's gone til Tuesday night." She smiled shyly. "Would you be willing to play guitar for me?"

He smiled a little. "I could, but you can still play some too. Don't forget, you gotta work at it."

She made a face. "I guess."

"You want to practice some songs?" He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you could do some harmony for me."

She grinned. "I would love to." She caught her breath. "Maybe we could perform together. Not the whole time, of course, 'cause I know you want to be a solo artist too, but we could."

He nodded. "I'd like that."

* * *

They spent the afternoon practicing songs they could do together. He taught her a couple songs he'd written and she shared with him the songs she'd written that were finished. Almost before they knew it, the sun was getting low in the sky.

"Wow, it's late," she said, glancing at her watch. "Almost five. I didn't realize we'd been here that long." They both got up and put away their guitars.

"You're getting better, Rayna," he said. "Really."

She smiled up at him. "Thanks." She bit down on her lip. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Be there by five thirty."

"I can't wait." Then she turned to walk back to her car, and he stood watching her.

 _ **####**_

She pulled into the parking lot of Shotgun Sally's at five thirty on the dot. She had plotted out the route on the map, which was in the passenger seat. She raised the top on her car and then got out, walking around to the back to get her guitar out of the trunk. She was tingling with excitement. Before she walked in, she took the bandana off her head that kept her hair in place, stuffing it in her purse, and smoothed her hands down over her denim skirt.

She walked up to the door, conscious of the fact that there were guys standing outside looking her up and down. She heard a whistle and a 'damn, that's a purty girl there', but she ignored it. It made her feel self-conscious and a little nervous, so she hurried inside. She stood just inside the door, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside and then looked around for Deacon. She finally spied him standing over near the bar and she headed that way.

He turned just as she approached. "Hey, Deacon," she said, with a smile.

He looked strangely nervous and she frowned just a little. "Uh, hey there, Rayna," he said. Then a very pretty, curvy blonde got up from the bar stool next to him and looked Rayna up and down. Rayna felt a twinge of anxiety.

The girl linked her arm through Deacon's, clinging to him possessively. She smiled at Rayna, but her smile didn't quite reach her cat-like green eyes. "I'm Samantha," she said. "Deacon's _girlfriend_."

Rayna swallowed. It was very clear to her that this Samantha was laying her claim to Deacon and, in no uncertain terms, warning Rayna to stay clear. She took a deep breath, wondering how exactly the night would go.


	10. Chapter 10

Rayna found her voice, finally, and put her hand out, a smile on her face. "Well, hey there, Samantha," she said. "I've heard all about you. All good, of course."

Samantha took her hand hesitantly and quickly pulled it away, a confused look on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Rayna could see Deacon looking like he wanted to run far away. "Well, you're ahead of me then," Samantha said, recovering her composure, her voice not the slightest bit welcoming. "I had heard _nothing_ about you until maybe ten minutes ago." She glared at Deacon, then looked back at Rayna.

Rayna could feel her face getting warm and her sense of discomfort rising. This wasn't what she'd expected. She looked over at Deacon then, but he was looking off towards the back of the venue. "So is there somewhere to sign up?" she asked.

He turned to look at her then and she saw something in his eyes, sort of like an apology, but then it was gone. "I signed you in," he said.

"Okay. Well, thanks." She looked around the room. "I guess I'll go find someplace to sit down then." She looked back at him. Samantha was still gripping his arm tightly and he looked uncomfortable. "See y'all later," she said, forcing a smile onto her face.

She walked off quickly, wanting to get away from the awkwardness. She felt tears in her eyes and blinked hard, trying to ward them off. There was no reason to cry. She knew Deacon had a girlfriend – that wasn't a surprise. She just hadn't expected he would bring her with him. She bit down on her lip and felt the lump in her throat. She told herself that it wasn't fair to be upset. He'd never promised her anything or let her even think he was interested in her. That was all in her own head.

She finally found a place to sit that was far enough away from the bar so that she didn't have the two of them in her visual field. She couldn't help but feel like Samantha's eyes were on her though. She ordered a Diet Coke, while she waited for her turn, and concentrated on thinking through the songs she was going to do. She was glad she'd brought her guitar after all, since she knew she wouldn't be able to count on Deacon now as her back up. It made her a little nervous, but at least she just had a few songs to do.

When her name was called, she got up and walked up onto the stage. She was surprised, then, to see Deacon approach from the other side. "You don't have to," she whispered.

He shook his head. "Told you I would, so I am," he said, his voice firm, but he couldn't look her in the eye.

She started off with 'Have Mercy', but the rest of her short set was like a blur. She could feel Samantha's cold stare and when her eyes crossed the other woman, she felt like she'd been stabbed. When she finished, she thanked Deacon, then turned and put away her guitar. She walked off the stage and out the back, not really knowing where she was going, her eyes filled with tears.

She leaned back against the wall, holding tightly to her guitar case, squeezing her eyes shut to try and keep the tears at bay. She knew she was being stupid – Deacon was Samantha's boyfriend, not hers. She had no right to be hurt. But she was. She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, the stars twinkling, and the three-quarter moon high in the sky. She could hear muted music from inside Shotgun Sally's, as she breathed in and out slowly. She wasn't really sure what to do next, but she knew she couldn't stand out behind the venue all night.

She pushed off the wall and walked down behind the strip center that the bar was in, rounding the corner to the parking lot. The other stores were dark, but the lights were on in the bar and the music was a little less muted, but she couldn't tell who was singing. She had hoped to get the chance to see Deacon perform by himself for a change, but obviously that was not meant to be. She got to her car, put her guitar in the trunk and got in. She sat a few more minutes, looking at the front of the bar, then started her car and drove back to Nashville.

 _ **####**_

He waited at the door, after he knocked. He heard her footsteps and then the door opened. "Hey there, sugar," she said, letting him in. Then she frowned at him. She touched his face. "You look sunburned. Where've you been?"

He breathed in. "The park. You know, just playing." That wasn't a complete lie.

She smiled. "You should wear sunscreen, you know," she said.

He shrugged. "I'm okay."

"So how's it going without your sister here?"

He made a face. "It's gonna be weird. I gotta figure out how to rework things for just me. Start playing some places on my own." She was trying to wrap her arms around him and he moved away from her. "I'm going down to Shotgun Sally's tomorrow," he told her.

She wrinkled her face. "Where's that?"

"Murfreesboro. Down south."

"That's so far." He thought she sounded a little whiny.

He shrugged. "I gotta get back out there, you know? Plus I'm gonna help a friend."

She raised her eyebrows. "What kind of friend?"

He looked away. "Someone I met at the Bluebird. She's just starting out."

" _She?"_ The note in her voice made him turn to look at her. Her eyes were glistening with anger. "Well, I think I better go with you to Murfreesboro then," she said, and he surely wished he'd never mentioned that Rayna would be there.

"Don't you gotta work?" he asked, as his heart sank. She _always_ worked on Mondays, which was why he'd felt safe going. But it was his own fault, for even mentioning Rayna.

She walked up close to him and glared in his face. "Not anymore," she said, her voice low and lethal.

* * *

Samantha had been badgering him since the night before about who his friend was. It had made for an uncomfortable night and he'd left right after having angry sex with her. It had left him feeling unsettled and angry with himself. When he got back to his apartment, he'd taken a shower, and then sat on the couch with a bottle of cheap whiskey, drinking until he passed out. So now he had a hangover headache, the kind that stayed all day and caused his temper to be short.

The drive down to Murfreesboro had alternated between stone cold silence and her angry demands that he tell her who he was helping out. It wasn't until they were standing at the bar, after he'd signed in both himself and Rayna, that he'd finally had enough of the nagging.

He frowned at Samantha. "Her name is Rayna. She's just sixteen, so you don't gotta worry about her that way." That wasn't really true, but she didn't need to know that. "She ain't had much experience with this and I was just trying to be nice."

She gripped his arm tightly and leaned in. "Just so she knows to keep her hands _off_. You're _mine_ , Deacon. Don't you forget it."

He bristled at the possessiveness. She'd always been that way, but it hadn't seemed so…sinister before. Or maybe it was just because he liked Rayna, _really_ liked Rayna, and that made him feel protective of _her_. "I told you. It ain't like that. So back off her." He glared at her and, for once, she seemed to back down just a touch. That's when Rayna walked up.

She looked so pretty and he felt that warm curl of desire in his gut. She was wearing that short denim skirt that showed off her gorgeous, lean legs. The top she wore clung to her full breasts and it was low enough to show off a bit of cleavage. Her hair fell in sexy waves just above her shoulders and when she smiled, he couldn't help but swallow.

Samantha came on heavy and he could see Rayna was taken aback a little. He was surprised when Rayna didn't let herself be intimidated, being her friendly self. He supposed that was what growing up in Belle Meade did, made you mannered and polite, even in the worst of circumstances. He hardly said two words, feeling like he'd completely lost the command of the English language. He watched as Rayna walked away from them and he wanted to run after her. His eyes followed her as she made her way across the room.

Then suddenly Samantha jerked his arm and he was forced to look back at her. Her eyes were almost slits and the anger on her face made her look surprisingly unattractive. It wasn't really a look he'd seen before. "She doesn't look sixteen to me," she snarled. "That girl is no girl, Deacon. I better not _ever_ hear about you sniffing around her either."

He jerked his arm away and turned to face the bar. He really wanted a drink. Badly. But this wasn't a place that would overlook the fact that he was underage, so he was stuck with a soft drink. As he sipped on his Coke, he thought that no matter how the night turned out, he was going to be in for a world of hurt later on. He just hoped he could keep Rayna out of the line of Samantha's fire.

* * *

When Rayna's name was called out, he jumped off the bar stool. Samantha grabbed at his arm. "Wait a minute," she said, her voice a warning. But he shook her off and headed for the stage. He jumped up on it at about the same time Rayna walked up and she looked surprised when she saw him.

He could see a light flush race across her face. "You don't have to," she said, her voice low.

He shook his head, not looking at her as he took his guitar out. "Told you I would, so I am." He got out his guitar and put the strap around his shoulder, then fastened it to the guitar. That's when he looked back at her. "So what are you doing?"

"Oh, um, 'Have Mercy', then the two of mine." He nodded. They'd practiced some, using her songs, so he was familiar with them. She looked at him earnestly. "Thanks."

He only glanced at Samantha once and he thought he could see smoke coming out of her ears, so he kept his focus elsewhere. Eventually he focused on Rayna's back, listening as she sang. She had a beautiful voice. He wondered what it would sound like if she sang some of his songs. Or some of the ones he and Beverly had sung together. Not that he'd probably get the chance to do that again. He suspected Samantha would try to keep a tight leash.

When she was done, she turned to him. "Thanks, Deacon," she said, then she hurried to put away her guitar. He didn't get a chance to talk to her anymore, as she hustled off the stage. And then he saw her scurry out the back and his heart sank. He wondered if he'd ever see her again.

 _ **####**_

As she turned onto 440, she couldn't help but feel sad about how the evening had turned out. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it certainly hadn't been that. She thought back to the look on his face, that look that seemed to say to her that it wasn't what he'd planned. It had made her wonder if she was right and that he had feelings for her. She still couldn't stop thinking about him, but she worried that he thought she was too young, too naïve. He was only nineteen, but that seemed like a huge age difference. He was on his own – a man – and she was just a junior in high school. He'd lived a life, moved far from home, had girlfriends, or at least _a_ girlfriend, and she'd had none of that. She'd grown up in a secluded mansion in the wealthy enclave of Belle Meade, with every advantage she could have asked for. It had always felt like she was a square peg in a round hole though. The times she'd spent with Deacon had surprisingly not felt that way though.

Her heart ached, though, and she had to wonder why she was mourning the loss of something she'd never had. If she was honest with herself, they were worlds apart. But it had felt like music drew them together, although maybe it was just because she wanted it to feel that way. She tried to shake it off as she headed down West End towards home.

* * *

When she pulled up the drive, she was surprised to see so many lights on in the house. With her father out of town, it shouldn't have been so lit up. Then her heart seemed to get lodged in her throat as she started to wonder if he'd come home early. She could barely breathe as she slowed her car, fear giving her chills but also, inexplicably, making her hands feel sweaty. She felt sick to her stomach as she pulled around to the back of the house. Her heart was pounding so hard it made her head hurt. She made herself get out of the car and then she slowly walked in through the French doors on the back patio.

She tried walking as softly as she could, through the den and then out into the hallway that led to the foyer. There was no avoiding having to go up the main stairs and risk him seeing her, but she hoped he wouldn't be listening for her. She could see the lights on in his study as she inched her way along the wall. She had just turned to start up the stairs when she heard his voice behind her.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, his voice low and lethal.

She took a deep breath and turned around, hoping he couldn't see how hard she was shaking. She swallowed and then said, "Over at a friend's."

He shook his head, his face dark with anger and his eyes ice cold as they bore into hers. "Not dressed like that, you weren't," he said. "I'll ask you again, and remind you to tell me the truth, young lady. Where were you?"

She wanted to burst into tears, but then she thought about what Vernice had said to her. _Baby, you gotta do what you're led to. Your mama would want you to follow your dream. You know that._ She _did_ know that, so she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath and faced down her father. "I was at an open mic, Daddy," she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded to her ears.

He took a few steps out into the foyer. "An open mic," he said, his voice deceptively smooth. He smiled then, a cruel, ugly smile. "I believe I've told you before that you are not allowed to do that. Isn't that true, Rayna?"

She hesitated a moment before she spoke. She knew that no matter what she said, this would not go well, so she was determined to say her piece. "Yes, it is true," she said. "But this is what I want to do. This is my dream and I'm going to follow it."

"Not while you live in my house, you're not."

"I don't understand, Daddy," she said angrily, clenching her fists at her side. "Why are you so against this? So against _me_?"

He smiled again, that smile that gave her chills up and down her spine. "I'm not against _you_ , Rayna. But you are a Wyatt. You're meant for better things than standing in some honky tonk down on Broadway singing for pennies."

"I'm not doing that."

He raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you though? Standing on some little stage, while grown men ogle you and call out to you like you're some kind of white trash from the other side of the river? That's demeaning to someone of your background, Rayna."

She frowned. "How is it demeaning to sing? To do what I love? Why is it so wrong?"

He scowled. "It's hillbilly music, Rayna. It was wrong of your mother to introduce you to that kind of music and encourage you that way."

Mentioning her mom made her furious. "There's nothing wrong with her having let me listen to that!" she cried. "I _loved_ it and I'm happy she shared that with me. It's the one thing I have left from her!" She could feel tears in her eyes then and she blinked hard, not wanting her father to see her emotions.

He waved his hand dismissively at her. "It's of no concern to me anyway, young lady. Because you are grounded, until further notice. And I'll take the keys to your car as well. You aren't going to cross me on this."

"You can't take my car away!" she cried. "How will I get to school?"

He smiled nastily. "Samuel will drive you. And pick you up and bring you straight home."

Now she felt despair. How would she get down to Robert's? How would she see Deacon? "You can't do that!" she cried, stomping her foot.

He laughed, a low, cruel sound. "Oh, yes, I can, and I just did." Then he turned on his heel and went back into his study, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving her standing on the stairs.

* * *

Just before her alarm went off the next morning, she had another dream about Deacon. They were standing on the stage, singing together. Again, she didn't hear the words, but this time it was a small place and when they finished, the crowd around them was applauding, but she didn't hear it because she was staring into Deacon's eyes and he was staring back at her. He leaned towards her, putting his hand on the back of her neck as he drew her closer to him. His lips had just touched hers when the alarm broke the spell.

She reached over and turned it off, then lay back on her pillow, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart was beating hard and she had that funny, tingly feeling all up and down her body. She reached up and touched her lips, as though she'd actually been able to feel his lips on hers. She closed her eyes and she could see Samantha's face, cold and angry, and she shuddered. Then she sat up in the bed, drawing her knees to her chest. She wasn't exactly sure what heartbreak was supposed to feel like, but she thought maybe it was what she was feeling right then.

Of course it didn't much matter anymore anyway, since her father had grounded her and taken away her car. She had no idea what she was going to do. She felt so defeated. As she got up and started for the bathroom, something popped into her head and she turned towards her desk. She pulled her notebook out of her book bag and opened it to a blank page. Almost without thinking, she wrote. _I had that dream late last night / I was yours and you were mine / Watched you fade into the morning light, again…._

 _ **####**_

As soon as he came off the stage, Samantha was in his face. "Let's go," she said. He was happy to. There was no real reason to stay, especially now that Rayna wasn't there. They walked out to his truck and got in. She didn't say anything until they were out on the highway, halfway to home. "She wasn't that good, you know," she said, finally.

He turned to glance at her, a frown on his face. "Yes she is, Samantha."

She crossed her arms firmly over her waist. "Her voice is thin. She's got nice boobs, I'll give her that, but her ass is flat as a pancake and she's short-waisted, which actually makes her look stumpy, even though she's tall. Her songs are childish. She'll never make it."

He shook his head. "You ain't got no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do. I've listened to live music for years now and I know good stuff when I hear it. The only thing that made her even worth listening to was you." She reached over and grabbed his sleeve with her fingers. "And that's the _only_ time you're singing with her."

He set his jaw and decided the better thing to do was not say anything. When he pulled up to her apartments, he told her he wasn't coming up. She pitched a fit, but eventually she realized he meant what he said and she got out of the truck and he watched her stomp up the steps.

He drove home to his own apartment and threw the keys down on the kitchen counter. It was all his fault, he knew. He should never have mentioned Rayna – and he really hadn't meant to – and now he knew Samantha would be watching closely. He sat down hard on the bed. It wasn't that he didn't like Samantha – he did – but there was just something about Rayna that was different. If he'd never met her, he would never have known what he was missing, but Rayna was…she was like the music. He'd never known anyone who inspired him that way.

He got up then and pulled open the top drawer of his dresser, rummaging around until he found the napkin he'd written on the night he'd first seen her. He went and sat at the table, with his notebook, and transferred the words he'd written to a clean page. Then he finished out the song and picked up his guitar.

* * *

It was three in the morning when he finally finished, getting lyrics and music the way he wanted them. Then he sang it all the way through.

 _Sittin' here tonight / By the fire light / it reminds me I already have more than I should_

 _I don't need fame / No one to know my name / At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good_

 _Two arms around me / Heaven to ground me / And a family that always calls me home / Four wheels to get there / Enough love to share / And a sweet sweet sweet song_

 _At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good_

 _Sometimes I'm hard on me / When dreams don't come easy / I wanna look back and say / I did all that I could / Yeah, at the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good_

 _Two arms around me / Heaven to ground me / And a family that always calls me home / Four wheels to get there / Enough love to share / And a sweet sweet sweet song_

 _At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good_

When he was done, he felt tears in his eyes. This song represented what he hoped to find, the kind of life he hoped to lead. What he knew for sure was that the two arms he wanted around him were Rayna's and he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. What he wasn't sure of was how to make that happen. Or if he even could.

* * *

Rayna called him on Thursday, sounding sad. "I can't meet you today," she said.

"Why not?" he asked, feeling sorely disappointed. He'd really started looking forward to seeing her.

"Daddy was home the other night, when I came home from the open mic. He was supposed to be out of town," she said.

He knew she tried to hide what she was doing from him, knew her father didn't want her doing it, for some reason. "You get in trouble?"

She sighed. "I'm grounded. And he took my keys, so I can't drive anywhere. I don't even know how long I'm grounded. But it just messes everything up."

He thought for a minute. "How 'bout I come to you?" he asked.

"Really?" He thought she sounded pleased at the idea. "Oh, but what about, well, you know."

He knew what she meant. "She don't gotta know." He bit his lip. "Tell me where you live and I can come there." She gave him the address and he wrote it down. He'd lived in Nashville long enough to know that she lived in the fanciest part of town. It made him stop and think about the fact that she was way out of his league, even if she was just sixteen. She didn't seem so fancy, but the truth was that she was. He took a deep breath. "Okay. So same time?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any trouble."

He frowned. "I'd do it anyway, Rayna, so don't worry. I can take care of myself."

"I know." Her voice sounded small and he realized he'd probably sounded harsher than he'd meant to. "I just don't want to be a bother."

"You ain't a bother, Rayna," he said, softening his voice. "I _want_ to do this. I want to help you." He cleared his throat. "So I'll see you later."

He could practically hear the smile in her voice. "Thanks, Deacon. I'll see you then."

 _ **####**_

She watched out the front window for his truck. "Miss Rayna?" She turned at the sound of Vernice's voice. The housekeeper had a tray with glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. "I'm gonna put these out back for you and your young man," she said with a smile.

She shook her head. "Oh, he's not like that," she said. "He's just teaching me how to play the guitar. Or trying to, anyway." She smiled sadly.

Vernice gave her a knowing look. "Well, you seemed all perked up 'bout him coming over." She looked Rayna up and down appreciatively. "And you dressed nice. So I think you might like him a bit."

Rayna blushed. "He's just a friend." She smiled. "But thank you for the iced tea." She watched as Vernice turned to head out back. Then she looked down. Vernice was sort of right. As soon as she'd gotten home from school she'd hurried upstairs to her room and thrown off her school uniform and changed into a pair of jeans that she knew fit her well, along with a pretty poet blouse that she thought highlighted her waist. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and then had stood, looking at herself in the mirror, hoping she didn't look like she was trying too hard.

She turned back around then to look out the sidelight window and saw Deacon's truck slowly making its way up the drive. She threw open the door and hurried out onto the portico. She smiled and waved as he pulled to a stop in front of the house. He didn't get out right away, which made her a little nervous. She was afraid he'd be overwhelmed and intimidated and she didn't want that. Finally he opened the door and got out, his eyes wide.

"Hey, Deacon," she called out, waving from the steps.

He walked around towards her, still looking a little shell-shocked. "Hey, Rayna," he said. He looked up and she turned to do the same, looking at the house as though she hadn't seen it a million times before. The columns were two stories tall and imposing, framing the balcony on the second floor and the wide front porch. The tall roof of the porch gave the house a formal look. It wasn't that she'd never really thought about the house before, but she'd grown up there, and her friends all lived in houses just like this one. But she imagined this was not something Deacon was used to. "Wow," he said.

She breathed in. "Thanks for coming over here, Deacon." He lowered his gaze to look at her. "Come on, we're going to be out back on the patio."

He followed her up the steps and, as they walked to the back of the house side by side, she watched him as he looked first towards the formal dining room to the left, then at her father's study to the right. They passed a smaller parlor, then walked through the den, the place she felt most comfortable. Then they walked out onto the patio. The tray with glasses and tea was sitting on the patio table.

She waved her hand towards the chairs. "We can sit here," she said. "Vernice made us tea." He looked at her then, a puzzled look on his face. "Our housekeeper," she said softly, feeling strangely embarrassed.

She could see him breathe in as he looked around. "Maybe we could sit on the steps," he said, nodding towards the steps that led to the back lawn.

"Oh, okay," she said. "Uh, do you want some tea?"

He smiled then, the first smile he'd given her. "Um, sure," he said. She went and poured two glasses of iced tea and brought them over to where he was already sitting on the steps. She held out a glass and he took it and then she went back for her guitar. When she was sitting beside him, he looked over at her. "Thanks."

She smiled. "Thanks for coming over here."

He sighed then. "Why do you want to do this, Rayna?"

She frowned. "Do what? Learn the guitar?"

"Be an artist. Be on stage."

"Because it's my dream. Because I feel like I'm supposed to be doing that." She was confused as to why he was asking.

He breathed in and looked around. "You got all this. You could have anything you want. Why would you do something that's gonna be so hard?"

"Because it's worth it to do what I love." He didn't say anything and she frowned. "It's not like the only people who can do this are…I don't know. Am I not good enough?"

He shook his head. "It ain't that you aren't good enough. You're _too_ good. You don't need to suffer."

"You ever think maybe I want to?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Maybe I don't _want_ everything handed to me, Deacon. You ever thought about that?" He looked away. "Yes, I could probably just coast along, but I'm not as smart as my sister, so I wouldn't be going to Vanderbilt. I don't know that I even want to go to college. The only thing I want to do is sing on stage. Why do I need college for that?"

He looked back at her. "Ain't you just gonna marry some Belle Meade guy and go to parties and stuff at that country club? Be with your people?"

She stared at him, thinking about that. Then she laughed. "I don't _want_ to do that. And those are _not_ my people. I don't fit in with them." She hugged her knees to her chest. "Kids at school laugh at me because I like country music. I don't have a boyfriend. Never have, really. I've never kissed a boy. Not a real kiss anyway. Yes, my daddy's really rich and he's very powerful in Nashville, but that doesn't mean I want the same things." She bit her lip. "I know it'll be tough and I'll have to work hard. I know I won't just get up on a stage in front of twenty thousand people right away. I'm ready to pay my dues. I just want to be an artist."

He gave her a little smile then. "You're good enough."

She shook her head. "I've got a long way to go to be good enough."

"You'll do it. I feel it." He sighed. "I never been in a place like this. I never known anyone who lived like this. Just seems like it would be a good life."

"I think it's the same life, Deacon, just in a different house."

He shook his head. "It's different where I come from."

"What's it like there? In Mississippi?

"Hot." He laughed a little and she smiled. "Natchez ain't like Nashville. Lotta hardscrabble people there. The kinda place you wanna leave."

"And here you are. Will you stay?"

"I want to. I wanna be able to write songs and sing 'em. I'd like one day to have my own spotlight at the Bluebird, ya know? Have number one records, play in front of big audiences. Same as you."

"You're farther along the road than me. You've already got a lot of songs. And you've made money at it too, right?"

He shrugged. "A little. Not a lot."

She swallowed. "And you have someone supporting your dreams." He frowned. "Samantha." He looked away. "She came with you to Shotgun Sally's."

He shrugged and looked back at her. "I guess."

She really wanted to ask him how he felt about Samantha, but she was afraid of the answer. Afraid he'd say he loved her. So she decided to change the subject. "I've been working on a song."

He smiled. "Really? Let's hear it then."

She picked up her guitar and started to painstakingly pick out the chords.


	11. Chapter 11

_And I don't mean to change your mind / We've had this talk a hundred times / It's raining like a river down my eyes / And I don't want to talk about / How our hearts are doing now / God knows the both of us have tried / We were so in love, just a couple kids / It's a long way back, again_

When she finished, she put her hand over the sound hole and looked at Deacon. She couldn't really read his expression and he didn't say anything at first. She sighed. "You hated it," she said.

He shook his head. "Nah, I didn't hate it. Gotta admit I was surprised a girl who says she's never had a boyfriend and never really kissed a guy could write that." He smiled a little.

She could feel herself blush. "It's all in my dreams," she said.

He looked at her intently. "You dreaming about someone in particular?"

She shrugged, feeling embarrassed, wondering if he knew it was about him, or at least how she dreamed about him. "Um, not really," she said.

He looked a little skeptical, but then he nodded. "Well, you done good on the lyrics," he said. "But it's kinda ballad-y, ain't it?"

She frowned. "It's kind of a sad song. Like they're not able to be together."

"Yeah, I get that, but I think you oughta make it a little, um, more upbeat."

"That doesn't make sense to me, Deacon. It's a ballad. It should sound ballad-y. Why wouldn't it?"

"You hear a lot of ballads on the radio?" he asked. She shrugged. "You don't. Ain't what sells, ain't what gets played." He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna be on the radio?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, then, let's work on something a little more upbeat. Don't have to be no happy song. I get it, it ain't that kinda song, but it don't mean you gotta make it sound like you're at a damn funeral. Make it something people want to listen to."

She had to admit she was a little intrigued with what he might do to it. "What were you thinking?"

He smiled a little. "You got your lyrics out here?"

"They're upstairs. Will you wait?"

He grinned. "Where else would I go? I ain't sure I can find my way back out."

She smiled. "Okay, well, wait here. I'll be right back." She got up and set her guitar aside, then ran back in the house and up the stairs. She found her notebook on her desk and started for the door. She passed in front of the mirror and stopped for a moment, looking at herself. She could see a little color on her cheeks and she breathed in deeply. Then she turned and ran out the door and back down the steps.

He turned when she came out onto the patio. She walked over and sat next to him, holding the notebook against her chest, suddenly a little apprehensive about letting him see what she'd written. He looked at her thoughtfully. "You really dream that all up in your head?" he asked.

"You don't believe me?"

He shrugged. "Ain't that I don't believe you, but, I don't know, seems real somehow." He lifted an eyebrow. "Like it means something to you."

She felt hot inside and looked away. "Well, you know, my sister reads all these books. I mean, read them when she was my age. Romance novels."

He let a smile cross his face. "So you read 'em now?"

She shrugged and then looked at him, feeling herself blush again. "Sometimes."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you know, life ain't always happily ever after."

She tilted her head a little to one side. "I'm not sure I believe that." She breathed in. "I believe in true love and love at first sight and loving someone your whole life. Don't you?"

He shook his head, his eyes getting a sad look to them. "Nah. I ain't never seen that."

"You don't think there's someone out there you might love your whole life?" she asked softly.

He looked at her for a long time, then breathed in deeply. "I don't know," he said finally. He held his hand out. "You gonna let me look at that?"

She took a deep breath, then a little reluctantly handed over the notebook.

 _ **####**_

Deacon had barely hung up the phone from talking to Rayna when it rang again. It was Samantha. "So, what are you doing, baby?" she asked. Ever since the night at Shotgun Sally's, she'd been stuck to him like glue. He'd had mixed feelings about it. He liked Samantha, had fun with her, really enjoyed the sex, but he'd been aware of the fact that, more and more often, he was looking at her through a different lens. Maybe it wasn't fair. After all, Samantha didn't grow up in tony Belle Meade like Rayna did. She'd grown up more like him, in a small town in East Tennessee, migrating to Nashville because it was the big city with the shiny lights.

He knew that probably, if he'd never met Rayna, he would have continued to feel satisfied with Samantha, maybe not forever, but for a while. It wasn't that he thought he had a realistic chance with someone like Rayna Jaymes. She was, after all, the daughter of one of the richest, most powerful men in Nashville, as he'd discovered. And she had the whole world at her feet. Even though she had a voice that was made for radio and the stage, she had so many more options. She didn't need the life of a struggling artist, driving from town to town, playing in local watering holes and dive bars, hoping to get a break.

For now, though, he felt drawn to her, in a way he'd never felt drawn to anyone else. "Um, I'm not feeling so hot," he said to Samantha.

"Oh, sugar, I'm sorry," she said. "How about I come over and bring you some soup? Or just be there?"

No, no, no, no, no. "Uh, maybe not. I'm kinda, you know, bathroom sick," he said.

"Oh." He could picture the look on her face. Samantha was definitely not the nurturing type and she certainly wasn't good with sick. He'd gotten really wasted a few times with her and she had gotten mad when he ended up hugging the toilet. "Well, maybe you just need to stay in bed and call me when you're feeling better," she said.

He smiled a little to himself. "I'll do that," he said. "So, listen, I need to go."

"Okay then." She hung up in his ear and he stood there, holding the phone out and just shaking his head. He put the phone back in the receiver and then went to get his guitar and keys.

* * *

He had the piece of paper he'd written down Rayna's address on and he opened the map he'd bought at a nearby gas station. He certainly went to the other side of the river, but he'd never really been in the part of town where she lived. He spread the map out on the hood of his truck and found the area marked 'Belle Meade'. He traced his finger over the route he would take and then refolded the map and got back in to his truck. As he started it, he felt nervous. He was headed into a place that was far beyond his comprehension and he wasn't at all sure he was ready for it.

* * *

As he drove down West End, the homes got bigger and more pretentious looking. The cars were nicer and he began to feel out of place. When he got to Lynwood Terrace, he saw the big mansion set back from the street, a huge plot of land out front. He was seriously out of his league. He turned left and made his way slowly up the road. He shifted his eyes right and left, staring at the big, impressive houses on either side. He turned right onto Lynwood Boulevard and slowed down even more, looking for the street address Rayna had given him. When he saw it, on the small, surprisingly unassuming mailbox on the street, he swallowed hard. He couldn't even see the house from the street. There were huge shrubs all along the property line, creating a living privacy fence.

Someone came up behind him and tapped on the horn, which made him realize he'd stopped in the street. He waved and then turned into the driveway. There was a gate, but it was open. He still couldn't see the house. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way up the drive. As he rounded the curve, the huge white mansion rose up in front of him. He'd never seen anything quite like it and he caught his breath as he realized this was the home Rayna lived in.

He kept creeping up the drive and, as he approached the large front porch, he saw Rayna run out of the front door, waving at him. He stopped the truck and just sat, frozen, for a moment. _I don't belong here._ He was from Mississippi, the son of a violent alcoholic and a woman who was crazy. They weren't poor, but they were definitely lower middle class. He didn't fit in this place and he sure had no business with this privileged girl.

He almost drove away, but he could see the confused look on Rayna's face and he thought about how nice she'd been to him, even after she knew he wasn't her kind. He found his courage to get out of the truck and slowly make his way to the bottom of the steps, where she met him.

"Hey, Deacon," she called out.

"Hey, Rayna," he said, still feeling a little shell-shocked. He looked up the front of the house. He'd never seen anything so big in his life. It seemed as wide as it was tall. He knew it was just Rayna and her father who lived here and he couldn't even imagine needing a house this big. "Wow," he said.

"Thanks for coming over here," she said. Then he looked at her. She looked anxious, like she was afraid he wouldn't like her house or something. "Come on," she said. "We're going to be out back on the patio."

He couldn't even imagine having a patio. They certainly hadn't had anything like that at the house where he grew up. They had a backyard, sure, but that was it. Half dirt, half weeds, to the best of his recollection. Some of those flimsy yard chairs and a bench. He was sure this house didn't have flimsy yard chairs. He followed her into the house and swallowed hard. The entrance led into a large entry room with a huge Oriental rug in front of a wide staircase.

She walked beside him as they headed for the back of the house, but he couldn't help but look one way and then the other. He saw a massive dining room table with a painting of a woman on the wall, dressed in a formal gown. He wondered it that was Rayna's mom. When he looked the other way there was a room that was covered in wood paneling. It looked like a library, almost, with the walls of books. He was afraid to look anywhere else, for fear he wouldn't know what the rooms were.

They passed through a room that seemed more casual, with couches and large arm chairs that looked like you could sink down in them. There was a large fireplace with a painting above it that looked like it must have been Rayna's family. The smallest girl was standing next to who he assumed was the mother, her small hand on her leg. It looked like a very young Rayna, with short red hair in curls and a smile that seemed like she was ready to burst into laughter. Finally they were out on the patio, where there definitely were no flimsy lawn chairs. She directed them to some fancy iron chairs, but he saw steps leading down to the lawn and thought that would be better, so they sat there.

He had never felt more uncomfortable in his life, but when he looked into her face, he forgot all about that.

* * *

He thought for a minute she wasn't going to let him see her song, but she finally handed him her notebook. He was intrigued by what she'd written. He really didn't believe her when she said it was all in her head, that it was based on books she'd read. There were some real feelings in there, he could tell. Maybe not the whole song, but there were parts where he could tell there was yearning and a need. He didn't look at the notebook at first, but back at her.

"What did you see in your head when you wrote this?" he asked. She blushed and he was pretty sure he'd hit a nerve, maybe hit close to the truth. Before she could answer, he went on. "You really ain't never had a boyfriend? You gone on a date?"

She frowned then. "Yes, I've gone on a date. More than one actually." She turned on the step to face the back of the yard, her chin tilted up. He knew he'd hit a sore spot.

"I ain't judging," he said. "Just surprised me, is all."

She looked at him then. "I'm just a weirdo. I don't fit in."

He smiled at her. She was as far from a weirdo as he could imagine. "You ain't no weirdo, Rayna. You just are hanging with the wrong people." She looked unconvinced. "You got a special talent. You find people like you, you'll be fine."

She squinted at him. "What makes you so smart, Deacon Claybourne?" He could tell she was teasing him.

He shrugged. "I been around. I seen stuff. And Watty White likes you. You'll be fine."

She sighed. "Well, since I can't get out and go do anything without a car, I'm sure Mr. White will give up on me."

"I can take you." He wasn't really sure how he'd do that, once the words were out of his mouth, but he knew he'd figure it out.

"What about Samantha?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll just break up with her," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Don't do that for me," she said. "You like her, I can tell. I don't want to get in your way. I don't want to cause you trouble."

He thought about that. He hadn't really meant to say that, but once the words were out of his mouth, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He wanted to help Rayna. Something deep down inside him told him that it would be worth it if he did. "Let's think about the music for this song," he said, changing the subject. He looked at the lyrics she had written down then. He looked back at her. "Did you write down your chords anywhere?"

She blushed and shook her head. "No."

He smiled. "That's okay. I'll do it for you. Let me try something, okay?" She nodded and he started to pick out a melody as he worked through her lyrics.

 _ **####**_

 _Maybe I'll just break up with her._ She had shivered inside when he said that. It was like he knew, somehow, what was in her head. Not that she'd thought that exact thought, but that he would be willing to give her up that quickly. But then he'd changed the subject, so she wasn't really sure what to think. He was singing her song, making it a little more upbeat, as he said, stopping periodically to write down chords, so she focused on that.

He worked on the chorus and then played it through for her. "Now sing it with me," he said.

 _And I don't mean to change your mind / We've had this talk a hundred times / It's raining like a river down my eyes / And I don't want to talk about / How our hearts are doing now / God knows the both of us have tried / We were so in love, just a couple kids / It's a long way back, again_

She liked how it sounded and she smiled as they sang it through a second time. "That does sound better," she said. "I like it."

He looked at her. "You ever been in love?" he asked.

He'd caught her off guard and she wasn't sure what to say. "I, uh, um." She was twisting her fingers together in her lap. "I, uh, I don't think so." That wasn't really true. She had thought she was in love with _him_. Still wasn't sure she wasn't, but she also wasn't sure if it wasn't just that she'd fallen in love with idea of him, with the music he played and the way he sang and the way he smiled. "Have you?"

He shrugged. "Thought I was. But sometimes it's easy to get love mixed up with…other things." She was pretty sure he meant sex. She wondered if he had thought he loved Samantha.

"Do you love your girlfriend?" She couldn't believe she'd actually asked that out loud.

"Nah. I like her, but it ain't love. It ain't…that." She was pretty sure he blushed as he shook his head. He breathed in, then let it out. She saw something in his eyes that looked like longing. "I like _you_ , Rayna," he said, his voice quiet.

Suddenly she had trouble breathing. "I, uh, what," she stammered. "What, you mean, like I'm nice? As a friend?"

"I _do_ like you as a friend," he said. She felt her heart sink. "I want to help you. With your music."

She made herself smile. "Thanks, Deacon. That means a lot. And I like what you did with the song." She felt confused. For a second, she thought he really liked her, as more than just a friend, and now she felt let down. She didn't want him to know it had hurt her, so she put on a brave face.

"We can try it again. All the way through."

She nodded. "I'd like that."

When they were finished she had to admit he was right. It did sound better. It wasn't too peppy, but just right. It had a catchiness to it that she thought would appeal to listeners and the message was a good one.

"So you wanna do it at Robert's? Next week?"

She bit her lip. "I'll have to check to be sure Daddy's not gonna be around." She rolled her eyes. "You must think I'm such a baby."

He shook his head. "Nah. I mean, it would be nice if you was older, but it'll all work out. And I can pick you up on my way to work."

She smiled. "Coming here isn't on your way to work."

He grinned. "True. But I'll do it. Ain't a big deal."

"But how will I get home? Don't you have to work longer than my set?"

"Don't worry. I'll work it out."

She looked at him closely. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He looked puzzled. "'Cause I like you, Rayna. And because you're good." He grinned. "So, you wanna guitar lesson?"

She smiled back at him. "Oh. Yes, I do." She got up and retrieved her guitar, then sat back down on the step. "I'm ready."

 _ **####**_

He wasn't completely sure why he'd offered to come get her. It was true that he liked her. A lot more than he'd let on. She confused him, that much was true. Sometimes he'd forget she was just sixteen. She seemed older in some ways. Her song. It had seemed like someone with a lot more experience in life had written that. Considering she had so little experience with dating and boyfriends, it had surprised him.

He'd let his guard down with her too. It was hard to believe that not so long before, he'd thought Samantha Beasley was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He'd thought he was pretty lucky to be her boyfriend. But then he'd met Rayna and something had changed. He was sure some of it was that Rayna was so well-mannered and polished. Growing up rich seemed to smooth out all the rough edges, or so he'd believed. Rayna was down-to-earth though. He'd sensed, from the beginning, that she was different, not so perfect. Real.

He hadn't meant to say that he liked her. He'd recovered, but in the moment, he'd sort of lost himself a little bit. He'd seen first the hopefulness in her eyes and then the disappointment. Maybe she did like him, but he didn't want to put her in a difficult spot. His heart ached though, as he thought about how she had bravely smiled at him and just went on.

 _You ain't good enough for her though._ He sighed. He knew that was true. He'd grown up with violence and neglect, drinking and a touch of madness. He'd been afraid of his father growing up, learned to fight back when he got older. He remembered holding a gun on his father, wondering if he'd have the courage to use it. His mother couldn't fight back and eventually seemed to pull inside herself. His father had finally left and his mother had died and he and Beverly had been alone. He couldn't give Rayna the things she deserved, things she may not have thought she wanted, but that he knew one day she would.

He thought he should probably walk away from her, but something kept pulling him back. He sighed and headed for home.

* * *

This time when he pulled into her driveway, he didn't feel the same intimidation he had the first time. He still felt a little overwhelmed by the grandeur, but he tried not to let it get to him. Almost as soon as he pulled up and parked, Rayna opened the front door and flew out, her guitar in hand. She ran to the truck and opened the passenger door. "Where do I put my guitar?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You ain't gonna need it," he said.

She frowned. "Why not?"

"I'm gonna play for you. Like last time."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really. Go put it back." He watched her as she raced back up the steps and put her guitar inside the front door. Then she trotted back down the steps and got in the truck.

She turned and smiled. "Thanks, Deacon."

He smirked. "You still ain't that good, Rayna. Which means I'm a bad teacher. Least I can do is help you out." She stuck her tongue out at him and then she laughed. Things felt back to normal between them, whatever that meant. He didn't want everything to get all heavy. He had nothing to offer her and he didn't want to let either of them get hurt.

* * *

As he stood behind her and slightly to her left side, he watched the crowd and how they reacted to her. She really seemed to light up on stage and they seemed to get increasingly drawn in. People walking by on the street would stop to listen and then drift in. She would look back at him periodically and he would smile his encouragement, knowing she really didn't need it.

She wrapped up her set with the song he'd helped her with, the one she called 'Back Again'. He liked how it sounded and the crowd reacted positively to it, giving her a rousing cheer when she was done. "Thank y'all so much!" she cried, as she waved her hands. Then she ran off the stage and he followed behind. He slid his guitar off and she turned to him then. "Thank you so much, Deacon," she said. "That was so amazing!" She stepped forward and put her arms around him and hugged him. He put his arms around her and held her close.

She felt good in his arms. He smelled her hair and closed his eyes. He felt her breasts pressed against his chest and he could feel himself start to respond to her. He stepped back quickly and she looked up at him, a confused look on her face. "I, uh, I'm glad I could help you, Rayna," he said, feeling embarrassed. He took a few more steps away from her. "Uh, Matt's gonna take care of getting you home. I, uh, I gotta get to work." And then he hurried off, leaving her just standing there.

 _ **####**_

She stood there and watched as he walked away from her, feeling like she couldn't breathe. She'd felt such a rush, being on stage, and it had been even better than the first time. She'd been so excited when she came off the stage that she hadn't thought about what she was doing when she hugged Deacon. It had felt good being in his arms. She had pressed her face against his shirt and breathed in his scent. He didn't wear cologne like the boys in school, so it just sort of smelled like…him.

But then he'd held her a little tighter and she'd felt herself pressed against him. Not that she minded it, because she didn't, but then she'd felt something she'd only read about in Tandy's romance novels. _He was turned on._ That had startled her, confused her a little bit, because she'd never had any real experience with it. She'd told him the truth, that she'd never really kissed a boy. Not the French kissing Tandy told her about. It was always just a peck on the lips and then she usually didn't see them again.

She thought again about what it might feel like to have Deacon kiss her. Really kiss her. And she wondered what it would feel like to lie naked with him. She felt a heat wave pass through her as she considered that. Just then Matt walked up and she knew her face was probably beet red.

"Hey there, Rayna," he said, holding out his hand.

She just stared at him for a minute, then put her hand in his. "Hey," she whispered.

He shook her hand, then smiled. "You were fantastic. I hope you'll come back."

She nodded. "I would…like to."

"You're always welcome." He glanced over his shoulder. "So I told Deacon I'd make sure you got home okay, so I'm gonna get you a cab. Is that okay?" She nodded. He gestured towards one of the front bar stools. "Why don't you sit here and I'll call it for you?"

She nodded again. "Okay," she said, still feeling a little breathless. She got up on the stool and watched him walk away. Another singer got up on stage and she saw Deacon then, hovering over the sound board. He didn't look up even once and it made her feel like crying.

About ten minutes later, Matt came back out and escorted her out front to the cab. She looked over her shoulder as she walked out, but Deacon still wasn't looking in her direction. As she settled into the backseat of the cab, she felt like crying.

As the cab headed up Broadway, she realized she'd forgotten to pick up her tips.

 _ **####**_

He had forced himself not to look up, but he could still see her in his peripheral vision. He was sure he'd scared her off and he wanted to kick himself. Instead he forced himself to focus on what he was doing and then, when he got off work, he called Samantha.

If she was surprised at his apparent insatiability for her, she didn't say a word, just went along for the ride. But all he could see when he looked down at her was Rayna's face and the confusion in her eyes. He tried closing his eyes, but her face was still all he could see. She was in his blood now and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get her out.

 _Damn._


	12. Chapter 12

When the cab stopped in the driveway, Rayna fumbled around in her purse for money. The driver waved her off. "No problem, girl. Already paid fer," he said with a smile.

She gave him a grateful, but tired, smile. "Thanks."

As she opened the door, the driver peered out at the house. "Perty house for a perty lady," he said.

"Thanks again," she said and closed the door. She walked towards the steps and heard the cab drive away. Now that she was home and away from what had just happened, the tears started to roll down her cheeks. It had all seemed so nice. Deacon picking her up, their mundane chit chat in the truck on the way over, his getting on stage with her. Then after that hug, it was like he went cold.

She wasn't so naïve that she didn't realize what had happened. She'd read enough books to know he was aroused. Whether it was by her or just that guys always got aroused when they hugged a girl, she wasn't positive, but she had hoped it was her. But then the way he'd sort of pulled away and then walked off, like he was embarrassed. _Like he didn't mean that._

She opened the front door and stepped into the foyer. She looked around almost like she'd never seen the place before. She tried to imagine what it had looked like from Deacon's perspective. He'd told her that he hadn't grown up like she had, but she'd had no experience with anything other than Belle Meade, so it was hard to imagine how different this must have been. She couldn't help but wonder if some of his confusion and distance was that he didn't feel like he measured up to her, but then she remembered he had Samantha.

The tears started to flow again and she raced up the steps and down the hall to her room. She threw herself face down on her bed and sobbed into her pillow. She had opened up her soul to him with her song, risking him knowing how she felt about him. Now she knew that he didn't feel that way about her. Not really. He wouldn't have pulled away if that was the case, she was sure of that. After what he'd said about breaking up with Samantha, she felt let down and like she'd made a fool of herself.

 _I won't let him know._ She rolled over and sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes, setting her jaw. _I'll just pretend like it all didn't happen, that he is just another guy._ She wasn't going to let him see that she felt foolish. She'd just wrap it all up in a little box, tie a tight ribbon on it, and put in the back of her mind.

She got up then and went to her desk, pulling out her books, and opening up her history book. But as she looked down at the page, it was like she didn't see a thing.

 _ **####**_

He stayed overnight at Samantha's, something he didn't do often. Part of it was because he often had an early shift at the diner, and getting up early made her grouchy. Part of it was that he just liked being in his own bed. He was never completely comfortable in a different bed. He was still getting used to sleeping in the bed at the apartment, now that Beverly was gone, but he didn't like that loss of control. But mostly he just didn't like staying all night at Samantha's. It seemed to change something about relationships when you did that and he'd never completely settled into this one, even before Rayna.

 _Rayna._ He still could see her in his mind's eye. She looked so pretty up on stage, in her short corduroy skirt and gingham blouse, her hair curled and bouncing on her shoulders. And those fancy red boots. She didn't always wear them, but he particularly liked them, so he was always glad when she did. He looked around Samantha's room. She lived in a tiny one bedroom, not much bigger than his studio. He couldn't help but think that this apartment could fit into Rayna's foyer.

He sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why are you awake?" Samantha asked, her voice slurred with sleep, running her hand up his back. He stood up and looked for his clothes.

"Gotta work," he said, not looking back at her.

"I don't understand working so damn early," she groaned.

He pulled on his jeans and slid his arms into his shirt, not buttoning it. He sat back down on the side of the bed to pull on his boots. "I gotta have nights free," he said. "Never know when something'll open up."

She sighed and then he felt the bed move as she slid over behind him. She pressed her bare breasts against his back and reached around him, grabbing his crotch. He pulled away and stood up quickly. "What the fuck, Deacon?" she said, angrily.

He turned to look at her. She had curves that went on for days and he couldn't help but feel a little drawn to her lush body, but even as he looked at her, it was like she'd morphed into Rayna. He closed his eyes, knowing he needed to get her out of his head. "I gotta go, Samantha," he said. "Nothing personal." He found his wallet and keys on her dresser and then, buttoning his shirt, walked out the door.

* * *

He slid into a booth at the diner with his eggs, bacon, pancakes, and grits. One of the perks of working at the diner was free meals, which he appreciated, since cooking for him meant opening a can of spaghetti-o's or something similar. One of the other bus boys joined him, sitting across from him. They ate silently for a moment, then he reached across and tapped Deacon's plate with his fork. "Hey, man, you wanna play at this deal up in Clarksville Friday night? Me and Vince are heading up there and we could use another guitar player."

He frowned. "What kind of deal?"

"One of those festival kinda things. A little money, exposure, that kind of thing."

"How much money?"

"Three hundred bucks. You, me, Vince, we could split it. Extra hundred bucks in your pocket."

He smiled a little. "Sure, Stewart, I can do that." Stewart Osborne and Vince Jamison played around town and Deacon had met them out at a place in Lebanon. They mostly did covers and sometimes joined forces on small gigs here and there. He'd gotten Stewart the bus boy job at the diner and, in return, Stewart been helpful with both open mics and gigs, letting Deacon know what he heard about. Occasionally the three of them would play together. Now that Beverly had left Nashville, he thought it could become a more regular thing.

Stewart smiled. "You don't have to bring your ball and chain, do ya?" Deacon raised his eyebrows. "Oh, hey, man, it ain't like we don't like her. I mean, you really hit the jackpot with that one, amIright?" He winked. "Just that it slows down the action, know what I mean?"

Deacon shrugged. He knew exactly what Stewart meant, although it wasn't like he and Vince couldn't pick up girls anyway. "Yeah, I guess. And she works Friday nights, so no big." He thought about Rayna then. It would be nice to have a female singer, give her a wider audience, but he figured her father would be home, so she wouldn't be able to get out. Besides, he didn't need the distraction, so he pushed the thought aside. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm in then."

* * *

He was gathering up his guitar and notebooks when his phone rang. He considered not answering, but it could have been someone calling from work or about a gig, so he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

There was a beat before he heard Rayna's voice. "Hey, Deacon, it's Rayna."

He felt his heart start beating faster. "Uh, hey, Rayna." He cleared his throat. "What's up?"

"Well, I was checking about tomorrow."

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He couldn't do this. "Um, I gotta work. Picking up a extra shift. Sorry."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Well, maybe next week."

He had to end this. "You know, I really don't know if I'm gonna be able to do this anymore. I mean, you know, work and picking up gigs. I ain't gonna have a lotta time."

"I see." She sounded confused. "Well, then I guess it was nice knowing you." Now she sounded angry. And then she hung up on him. He felt bad, lying to her and all. But he couldn't be what she should have, what she deserved, so he thought it best not to make a fool out of himself any longer. Even if she did have some feelings for him, he knew he'd only end up disappointing her in the end, not being what she needed. He sighed, then picked up his things and walked out the door.

 _ **####**_

Her stomach was in knots all day long. She sat in class, but couldn't stay focused on what any of her teachers were saying, because she kept going over and over in her head that hug at Robert's, the call the day before. She had thought maybe he was starting to like her a little, the way he'd look at her, the smiles he gave her, but now she was both confused and angry. Not only had he walked away from her, but now he was cancelling their guitar lessons. She went and sat out in the courtyard during lunch, unable to eat. She wanted to cry, but she tried a trick Tandy had told her, pinching the skin between her thumb and index finger. It worked, except that the skin hurt from how hard she had to pinch.

Over the course of the afternoon, she paid no more attention to her teachers than she had before lunch and by the time she got home from school, she had made up her mind. She grabbed her guitar and went downstairs. She sat in her father's study and called a cab for herself. On the ride, she alternated between anxiety and determination. She wanted to confront Deacon about whether he had feelings for her, but at the same time she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

She got out of the cab, pulling her guitar case out after her. She stood on the sidewalk in front of Robert's, hearing the cab pull away. She heard jukebox music coming from inside the bar, so she thought her odds of being able to get up on stage were good. But first, she wanted to have it out with Deacon. Or at least she thought she did.

As she thought more about that, her bravery started to fade. She stepped back from the open door and leaned against the front wall. _What if I'm completely wrong? What if I end up making a fool out of myself?_ She thought about the differences between them. He was from a tough background, she had seemingly been born with everything. She was sure that when he came to her house that he'd felt that difference keenly. Maybe she shouldn't have expected anything different. Maybe she'd misunderstood everything.

She squared her shoulders then and walked over to the front door and stepped inside. She let her eyes get adjusted to the dimmer light and then looked over towards the soundboard and frowned. The person there was someone she didn't recognize.

"Rayna!" She turned towards the voice and saw Matt coming out from the back. "I'm glad you took me seriously. You can do a shift on stage?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. The anger she felt at discovering Deacon had lied about working was clouding her thinking. "Um," she said, looking around. "Sure, I guess." Matt looked at her oddly and then she realized she'd walked into Robert's with a guitar. If it hadn't been her intent to perform, why would she have done that. She shook her head and then smiled. "Of course." She tilted her head to the side. "Deacon's not here today?"

Matt shook his head. "He doesn't work Thursdays. Since he doesn't work the diner on Thursdays, we give him off so he has a whole day off. I know he'll be sorry he missed you."

She wasn't so sure, but she took a deep breath and hurried up the steps onto the stage. She got out her guitar and stepped up to the mic. As she went through her set, she hoped the crowd didn't hear all the missed chords and wrong notes, but as she started to relax and let the vibe of the crowd buoy her, she started to forget she wasn't that good on the guitar and, for a little while, forgot that Deacon had disappointed her.

 _ **####**_

Deacon jumped into Stewart's truck. Vince was sitting in the bed of the truck with their guitars. "How long a set we got?" he asked.

"Forty-five minutes. It's their big festival, so that's why it pays good." He looked at Deacon. "Now that your sister's hightailed it outta here, what say you hook up with us? We could be a trio."

He thought about that. "I kinda was looking at doing some on my own," he said.

"You could still do that. Hell, we ain't a top shelf country act just yet." Stewart laughed. "You can do whatever you want, play with us on weekends and stuff."

He shrugged and then smiled. "I guess there's no harm in it. Sure, why not?"

"You think your sister'll come back?"

He shook his head. "Nah. She's got a _boyfriend_." He cut Stewart a sly look. "She ain't leaving Natchez no more." He breathed in. "You ever thought about a girl singer?"

Stewart shook his head. "If we got a girl singer, Vince'd be boning her all the time. Ain't nothing good coming from that, know what I mean?" He laughed and Deacon laughed along with him.

 _Nah, not pulling Rayna into this._ Then he stopped himself, reminding himself that he was moving on from that, before he got in so deep he couldn't get out.

* * *

He'd had a good time on stage with Stewart and Vince. He didn't hang out with them much, because of Samantha, so he often forgot how much he liked it. Vince was old enough to legally buy booze, so he usually took care of the whiskey and beer. After their set, they stayed to watch the next act, an up and comer named Clint Black. As Deacon watched, he thought about being up on stage on his own. It was really what he'd wanted. He would have been glad to do it with Beverly, but a big part of him was glad she'd gone back to Mississippi, so he could pursue his own dreams. As he continued to watch Clint, he started to wonder whether he needed to get a hat.

Just then Vince slapped him on the back. Hard. "Let's go, big D," he shouted. Vince was a big guy. Not fat, just tall and muscular. He reminded Deacon of Trace Adkins, with the long ponytail down his back and the menacing look on his face when he got serious, which really wasn't that often. Vince was a life of the party type person, congenial and friendly, laughing a lot. And loud. Vince was always loud. You could hear Vince anywhere, with his booming voice and laugh. He was a great guitar player too.

Vince and Stewart were anomalies in the country music world. Native Nashvillians, just like Rayna. He clenched his jaw as he thought about her. _Am I never gonna get her outta my head?_ He sighed and then shook it off, following after Vince.

"Where's your damn girlfriend, D?" Vince asked. "I mean, that's one fine young lady. You oughten to be letting her out of your sight, bubba." He laughed heartily. "I wouldn't mind getting my booty on with that fine piece of female gorgeousness."

It should've bothered him more than it did, the way he talked about Samantha. In fact, not so long ago, it might have. She did always attract stares, appreciative looks, and wolf whistles. She enjoyed it, he would get pissed about it. But the thought crossed his mind then that maybe Vince should go for it. He frowned at Vince instead.

"Don't go there, bud," Stewart called out. "Deacon might call you out for a fight."

Vince was laughed merrily. "I'm just kidding around. D knows that." He slapped Deacon again on the back. "Come on, y'all, let's get on back to Nashville and get wasted."

* * *

By the time Stewart dropped him off at his apartment – and nearly ran down an embankment on the way – Deacon knew he was going to have a hard time getting up the next morning. He'd have a raging hangover, of that he was certain. Cheap whiskey definitely guaranteed his head would feel like something was pounding on it the next day.

He was leaning over one of the outdoor trash cans, puking his guts up, when he heard Stewart yell out that there was a showcase at the Exit/In in two weeks and he was signing them up for it. He waved at the voice and then heard the truck drive off, wondering if they'd make it home safe. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then stumbled across the parking lot and up the steps. He dropped his keys three times, cursing each time, before he finally made it into the apartment.

The next morning he woke up sprawled face down across his bed, smelling like puke, with that raging hangover he knew he'd have. He definitely needed to stop drinking so much.

 _ **####**_

She kept reminding herself all weekend long that she hadn't been broken up with, cheated on, or stood up. Deacon wasn't her boyfriend – at this point she wasn't sure he was even a friend – and he definitely didn't rate this much emotion and angst. But she couldn't stop thinking about him and wondering what actually had happened between the two of them. She couldn't help but pick it apart over the weekend. She hadn't gotten much sleep and she hadn't been able to muster up much of an appetite.

She was sitting on the patio on Sunday afternoon, her books sprawled out on the table, but just looking out over the lawn. She had five weeks left of school, but she had no interest in it. She dreaded going to school the next day, because the prom had been over the weekend and she hadn't been invited and it was just depressing to listen to all the girls talk about who went with whom and what dresses they wore and where they went afterwards and who got drunk and who maybe went all the way. She sighed.

"Hey, baby sister!" She turned when she heard Tandy's voice, then jumped up and raced over to hug her sister.

"Tandy! I'm so glad to see you!" she cried.

Tandy pulled her over to the table and poured a glass of tea, taking a sip. "I haven't seen you in so long," she said, grabbing Rayna's hand. "I'm so sorry, but school has been taking up all my time."

Rayna smiled and winked. "I think Charlie Hampton has maybe been taking up all your time."

Tandy made a face, then laughed. "Well, maybe he has a little bit." Charlie was her sister's new boyfriend and Tandy had been smitten in a way Rayna had never seen before. "But I'm here and I want to hear all about what you've been doing. Any new music stuff? A new boyfriend or anything?"

Rayna shook her head. "No boyfriends, of course." She leaned closer. "But I have written a couple new songs and I've been doing a few sets at Robert's downtown."

Tandy's eyes widened. "At a honky tonk? Does Daddy know?"

Rayna shrugged. "Well, sort of. He caught me once after I came home and he grounded me. Took my car away. I still don't have it back." She pouted. "But Deacon came and picked me up once and I took a cab the last time."

Tandy looked a little horrified. "A cab? Oh, sweetheart, that seems kind of unsafe to me." She looked at her carefully. "And that Deacon person is still around?"

Rayna shook her head and frowned. "Not anymore. He was giving me guitar lessons but he bailed on that. And then he said he was working anyway, but I went to Robert's and he wasn't. So you don't have to worry about him." Just saying that made her want to cry though and she still didn't really understand that.

Tandy chewed her lip a bit. "Well, maybe I could help you get where you need to be, sometimes. Just let me know. But I don't know about you going downtown."

"Stop it, Tandy. It's during the day, so you don't have to worry. And it's just an hour, so I'm home by dinnertime."

"Well, maybe." She smiled then. "Go get your guitar. I want to hear your songs."

Rayna smiled and jumped up from her chair. "I'll be right back," she said and ran into the house.

* * *

Seeing her sister and playing her songs had cheered her up. When Monday came around, she decided she would still go to Robert's, just like she had been, no matter whether Deacon was there or not. When the cab dropped her off, she was surprised to feel butterflies, but she took a deep breath and walked in with confidence. Sure enough, Deacon was at the soundboard. He looked up and saw her, but she couldn't read his face. She walked over to him and put her guitar case down on the floor.

"You lied to me," she said.

He frowned. "What?"

She put her hands on her hips. "You lied to me. Last Thursday, when you told me you had to work. You weren't here."

He glared at her. "You came to check on me?"

"No, I didn't come to check on you. I came to _play_ , thinking…well, I don't know what I thought. But no. I don't need to _check on you_. But you _did_ lie to me. And I'd like to know why."

He came out from around the soundboard. "You need to stop hanging around me, Rayna. I don't have nothing to teach you."

She raised her eyebrows. "What? Are you kidding me? Do you think that just because I'm not that good at the guitar that you have nothing to teach me?"

He started walking towards the back and she followed him. He stopped and turned around. "Go home, Rayna. Or go somewhere else." He turned and started again towards the back.

She hurried after him and grabbed his arm. He swung around, frowning darkly, but she was too mad to care. "I don't _want_ to go somewhere else, Deacon. You understand me. You're the only one who really understands me. I don't get this. I thought we were friends. Good friends. You helped me with my music and now you want to just, what, throw it away? Because why?"

He leaned in towards her, an angry look on his face. "Because there are better people than me, Rayna, to help you. Go find Mr. White. He'll find someone better for you."

She could feel herself breathing in and out as she stared at him and he stared back at her. She started to tremble just a little, then drew herself up. She turned and stomped back towards the front and out the door. She had walked part way up the sidewalk when she heard him call her name. She turned around, hoping he'd changed his mind, but he was just standing there with her guitar.

"You forgot this!" he called out, still looking angry.

She walked back and grabbed the guitar case from him. She expected him to turn and walk back inside and was a little confused when he didn't, just stood there staring at her. "What?" she said, when he didn't speak.

He started to turn, then he looked back at her. "There's a showcase at Exit/In a week from Friday. Eight o'clock. If you can, you should come." Then he did walk back inside, leaving her to stand on the sidewalk, just staring after him, now more confused than ever.

* * *

When she got home, she decided to do what Deacon had suggested, even though she knew he'd done it in anger. She found Watty White's business card and called him. While she waited for him to come on the line, she replayed the fight with Deacon in her head. She was so angry with him and she felt like she had every right to be, but she still didn't understand why he was tossing her aside. It made her wonder if he really might have had some feelings for her. Feelings he didn't want to have.

"Rayna?" The sound of Watty's voice brought her back to the present.

"Hey, Mr. White," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "I just wanted to check in with you."

"It's good to hear from you, Rayna. I heard you've been playing a few sets at Robert's," he said.

That surprised her. "You did?"

He chuckled. "Word gets around in this town, my little songbird. I've heard good things."

Now her smile was genuine. "It's been fun. But I feel like I should do more." She made a face. "And I'm still no good on the guitar."

"I thought you had someone working with you."

"Well, not anymore."

"You may not really need that. I can probably get you someone to help you out. We should talk again soon, Rayna, face-to-face. Start putting together a more defined plan now."

"I, uh, I got invited to come to a showcase next Friday at Exit/In. Is that something I should do?"

"Who invited you?"

She thought about Deacon just throwing that out. "Someone I know who's going."

"I think that could be a good idea, but let me touch base with the person putting it together, to be sure you're on their list. Can you get away for it?"

She thought about Tandy, wondered if it was something her sister might help her with. "I think so. I'll work it out, if you think it's a good idea."

"I do, Rayna. And I'll make sure to be there too. How about that?"

"That would be fantastic, Mr. White."

"Please, Rayna, call me Watty, okay?"

She laughed a little. "Okay, Mr., I mean, Watty."

"I'll see you Friday then."

She hung up and hugged herself. This felt like it could really be the real deal.

 _ **####**_

He hadn't seen Rayna since the day they'd had that fight at Robert's. She hadn't called either. Even though he had told her not to come around, not to call him, he felt despondent. He missed spending time with her, missed her smile. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd been too quick to push her away. If nothing else, she'd been a good friend.

He wondered if she'd be at the showcase that night. He'd thrown it out in anger, not even sure why he'd said it. That was another thing that had plagued his thoughts since then. _What if she shows up?_ It wasn't that it wouldn't be a good thing for her to do, but it would be awkward, after their fight and the things that were said. Plus Samantha was coming. He didn't need that kind of drama.

* * *

He was backstage at the Exit/In. He hadn't seen Rayna and he was beginning to breathe a sigh of relief. He saw Vince and Stewart huddled around Samantha, which didn't surprise him. He was planning to perform a few of his own songs, then step in with the guys. Samantha caught his eye and waved at him. Vince put his arm around her shoulders just then and she shrugged out of it, looking at him again with a frown. He knew then he needed to rescue her. Just as he started to walk across the backstage area, he caught a glimpse of red hair. He stopped to look.

 _Rayna._ She was with Watty White, smiling and chatting. Then, as though she could sense he was staring at her, she turned her head and locked eyes with his. She gave him a very tiny smile, then turned back to Watty.

"Hey! How dare you leave me there like that!" Samantha huffed as she grabbed his arm. He turned to look at her, seeing the annoyance in her eyes. "I don't like your friends pawing all over me." She looked in the direction he'd been staring in and he felt her hand stiffen on his arm. She turned back to him. "What is _she_ doing here?"

He breathed in and then shrugged. "Anyone can come, Samantha," he said. "She probably heard about it same as me."

"You didn't tell her to come, did you? Like that other place."

He looked away. "'Course not," he said, lying through his teeth.

She pulled him closer to her. "I don't like how she sniffs around you, Deacon."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "She don't sniff around me. She don't have time for someone like me."

"And what's wrong with you?"

He sighed. "It ain't that. But she's rich. She's got some rich boyfriend, I'm sure." He could tell Samantha was looking back in Rayna's direction. He just didn't want trouble. "Come on," he said, pulling her away. "Let's go find Stewart and Vince."

She made a face. "I don't want to hang out with them. That Vince is just too handsy." She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "You need to punch him out or something."

He jerked his head away. "He's my friend. I ain't punching him out. 'Sides, he's just having fun. He knows you ain't interested." As they turned to walk away, he felt a finger tap the back of his shoulder. He turned around and was face to face with Rayna. He could feel Samantha ready to snap. "Um, hey, Rayna," he said. "Surprised to see you here."

She tilted her head to the side with a little smile teasing at the corners of her lips. "Really? But you were the one who invited me." He felt sick. "I told Mr. White, I mean, Watty, that you'd suggested it and he thought it was a great idea." She reached out and rubbed his arm. "Look forward to seeing you out there." Then she turned and walked off.

"You lying bastard," Samantha hissed in his ear. He closed his eyes, thinking this was not going to be a good night.

* * *

He was standing on the side stage and he could hear her struggling a little bit with her second song. Her vocals were great, but the guitar part was killing her. He couldn't help himself, he slid his guitar on and walked out on stage behind her. She looked surprised, as he took up the spot just behind her and to her left. He nodded at her to keep going, while he picked up the guitar work. She stood with her hands on the guitar, singing her heart out, and at the end of the song, she got a huge reaction from the crowd. She glanced back at him and mouthed 'thank you' and then turned back to wave to the crowd.

When she walked off the stage, he took off his guitar and followed her. She swung around to face him, a look of total excitement on her face. "That was so amazing!" she cried. "Thank you so much for coming out there. I really appreciate it." She bit her lip. "Especially since I'm sure you didn't really want to."

He stepped closer to her. "It ain't that I don't want to, Rayna. I just, well, you just don't need me out there."

She looked confused. "Then why did you come out?"

He didn't know how to answer that. _Why_ _did_ _I do that?_ Someone bumped into him from behind then and he bumped into her. He grabbed her so she didn't fall and then she was face-to-face with him, her lips so close he could kiss them. He stared into her eyes and she stared back, her lips slightly parted. He almost leaned down but then he got brought up short.

"Hey!" He heard Samantha's angry voice and he stepped back, feeling awkward.

Rayna looked disappointed, but she put a brave smile on her face. "Hey, thanks again," she said softly, and hurried off.

"You need to stay away from her." Samantha was right at his ear and he turned to look at her. "You can't be with me and flirt with her. Make up your mind, Deacon, and then let me know your decision." She turned then and flounced off.


	13. Chapter 13

Watty stood on the side stage, watching each of the acts. Even though he was there for Rayna, he still kept his ears open for a new, exciting sound. He let his eyes roam over the crowd. Rayna's sister had brought her and he knew she was somewhere out there. Tandy reminded him of Lamar. Her looks favored Virginia, but she had Lamar's steeliness. He knew Tandy was sixteen when Virginia died. He wondered if she knew anything about his relationship with her mother. She'd looked at him a little oddly when Rayna had introduced them, although she'd been perfectly pleasant.

Then it was Rayna's turn on the stage, so he left his thoughts about Tandy and focused on her sister. Rayna was so like Virginia. It was what had struck him about her when he'd first met her. She had Virginia's looks, but also her zest for life, her love for music, and a whimsy that reminded him so much of his lost love. It was Rayna's voice that really caught his attention though. There was a richness there already, one he knew would deepen and grow as she got older. She was a pretty girl, would become a beautiful woman. He could introduce her to the right people, make sure she had a good manager, and help her fulfill her dreams.

She had caught his attention first, of course, because she was Virginia's daughter. But Rayna had real talent, he'd seen that almost immediately. She would headline arena shows one day, that he knew for sure, as long as she was serious about a career. If she was willing to do the work, make the sacrifices, throw herself into it for the long haul, she would make it. And he wanted to help her get there.

She would need at least a guitar player at first, since she was simply not that good, but eventually he thought she'd be playing large stages and arenas and would need a complete band. But that was a little ways off. He was a little surprised when he saw Deacon Claybourne walk out onto the stage to back her on the guitar. He'd seen Deacon around town, singing with his sister. He had thought they were decent, but nothing particularly special. Deacon's guitar skills were outstanding though, which he saw yet again as he played behind Rayna.

As he kept watching, he suddenly felt a magic on the stage. The two of them together had something special. Deacon made her better somehow. Maybe it was not having to focus on the guitar that freed her up to really let loose with her vocals, but, as good as they were, they were now almost commanding. He could really see the artist she would become.

It gave him an idea.

 _ **####**_

It made Tandy nervous for Rayna to go do a show at Exit/In. She was, of course, familiar with the place, since it was just around the corner from Vandy and a favorite of many of her college friends. In truth, she'd spent a fair amount of time there as well. It just didn't feel like the kind of place a sixteen year old girl should be. But she also wanted to support her sister's dreams, so she had told their father Rayna would be spending the weekend with her. He didn't have to know what Rayna's Friday night plans were.

When they got to the venue, Rayna was like a kid on Christmas. She turned to Tandy with a huge, excited smile on her face. "Oh my God, Tandy, this is like the real deal!" she cried.

Tandy couldn't help but smile. "I'm excited for you, sweetie," she said and put her arm around her sister's shoulder.

Rayna pulled away from her. "Mr. White!" she called out, waving her hand above her head. Tandy felt her stomach turn over. "Mr. White!"

The man Tandy knew was Watty White walked over to where they were standing. He was a tall, rangy man, his dark hair just touched with a bit of gray at the temples and a full beard. He had the hint of lines around his eyes and across his forehead. His crystal blue eyes were penetrating, but his smile was easy and gentle. He was wearing a suit, with a shirt unbuttoned at the neck. "I thought I told you to call me Watty," he said, smiling indulgently at her sister. Tandy couldn't help but wonder what his interest in Rayna really was.

Rayna laughed. "I'm sorry. _Watty_ , this is my sister Tandy. Tandy, this is Watty White. He heard me at the Bluebird and has been giving me some advice on my career." She looked eagerly back and forth between Tandy and Watty.

Tandy narrowed her eyes just a smidge. She couldn't help but wonder about this man who had apparently swept her mother off her feet. The man who made Virginia Wyatt want to leave her husband and family and run away. She was sure Watty must have known her mom had a family. _What kind of man is okay with a woman leaving her children behind?_ She forced a smile on her face and held out her hand. "I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr. White," she said, crisply.

He gave her a questioning look, but then it vanished. "You can call me Watty too," he said, pleasantly. He nodded towards Rayna. "Your sister is quite talented."

The smile faded a bit. "And what's your interest in her?" she asked, feeling protective of Rayna. Her sister was a teenager, after all, and had been sheltered most of her life. Tandy knew Rayna wasn't as savvy as she liked to think she was.

"Tandy," Rayna said, under her breath, looking a little horrified.

Watty shook his head and waved his hand at Rayna. "No, no, it's okay," he said. "She's just being a good sister, looking out for you." He looked back at Tandy. "Your sister is very talented, as I said. I'd like to help her get her feet on the ground. Help her grow as an artist, get her into some places where she can start to create some buzz. I think she could have a really phenomenal career in country music."

Rayna beamed and Tandy looked at her sister, wondering if he was doing it because she was Virginia's daughter. If he really thought she had the talent or if it was just some way to feel close to his old love again. She would definitely have to keep an eye on this.

* * *

She stood against one of the poles along the side of the venue, watching the acts on stage. She watched the reaction of the crowd when Rayna came out and was pleased to hear how receptive and enthusiastic they were. It had been a little while since she'd heard Rayna perform and she really thought her sister was even better than she had been before. Her guitar playing had not really improved much, despite the lessons she said she was getting from that Deacon Claybourne fellow.

Just as she thought his name, she watched as he walked out on stage and took over as Rayna's guitar player. At first she frowned, thinking it was really sort of forward of him to do that. But as she listened, she couldn't help but think that he really complemented her vocals. When Rayna didn't have to concentrate on the guitar, her voice was even more compelling than before.

Tandy understood why Watty would have had a professional interest in Rayna. She certainly hoped he had her best interests in mind. But more concerning to her now was the way that Deacon was looking at Rayna. She didn't know if Rayna had enough experience to know when a young man was in love with her, but Deacon Claybourne certainly looked like a man in love as he watched Rayna.

Tandy felt a little shiver run up her spine.

 _ **####**_

Rayna's mind was swirling as she hurried off, away from Deacon and Samantha. Her eyes filled with tears and her heart felt heavy as she blindly walked towards the steps.

"Rayna!" She heard Watty call her name and she stopped, then turned slowly, wiping her eyes. She forced a smile to her face. He was smiling. "That was fantastic," he said.

"Thanks," she said.

He frowned a little. "Did you feel good about it?"

She thought about that. When she was singing, that had felt fantastic. It was everything that happened after that that had felt…confusing, and definitely _not_ fantastic. She nodded. "Yeah, I did. I was happy with the songs," she said.

"That was a great idea, having Deacon come out with you."

She shook her head. "I didn't know he was going to do that."

"Well, I thought it worked really well. The two of you have some amazing chemistry on stage."

She felt the tears again and blinked hard. "Well, I think he was just bailing me out on guitar," she said, trying to smile. "You know, because I'm so bad and all." She laughed a little.

Watty crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at her. "You did good tonight, my little songbird. You should be proud. I think this will turn out to be a launching pad for you." He pointed a finger at her. "So stay tuned. I've got some things in mind."

The fake smile turned into a real smile then. "Thank you so much for your support, Mr., I mean, Watty." She could feel herself blush a little. "I'm ready for whatever you have in mind."

* * *

She couldn't fall asleep. Tandy was on the other side of the bed, dead to the world. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. The night had felt surreal, on so many levels. It was the biggest crowd she'd played in front of and that had felt both intimidating and exhilarating. Hearing the reaction not only to her own music but the music of all the other artists there that night had been like a dream come true. It had felt like what she imagined it would really feel like to be a working artist.

She couldn't help but think about her mom and tears welled up in her eyes. Her mom had been the one to open her eyes to all the possibilities, encouraging her to sing and express herself that way. All the way back to the very first song that had touched her soul – the haunting 'Wayfaring Stranger' – to the song that solidified for her that she wanted to sing country music – John Conlee's 'Rose Colored Glasses'. She loved the old classics and wanted to be that kind of artist. Another Patsy Cline or Dottie West.

Deacon walking out on stage to help her had seemed like a dream come true, for a half second. That he would do that for her had given her hope, had given her strength. She thought maybe it meant that they could get back on solid ground with each other, but then he had to spoil it. _You just don't need me out there._ Maybe that was true, but she had _wanted_ him there. It had felt right, somehow, in a way she was at a loss to explain. When he'd been bumped into her, for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, or something. But he'd pulled away so fast and then Samantha had walked up and it had killed the moment. Or maybe there hadn't been a moment to kill. She felt so confused.

Seeing Deacon that night with Samantha had just reminded her that he was off limits, that her little schoolgirl crush – and that was surely all it was – was a waste of time. Samantha was a _woman_ , that much was clear, and she surely satisfied him in ways Rayna couldn't even imagine, not even after reading all of Tandy's romance novels. She felt a lump in her throat as she remembered him coming out on stage with her. _He probably thought I was so pathetic, he just needed to bail me out._ She rolled over onto her side and let the tears roll down onto the pillowcase.

She told herself that Deacon wasn't part of her life anymore. She was going on a different journey, one that Watty White would help her plot out. Deacon had his own life to live, finding his way as a single artist and living his life with Samantha Beeswax. She smiled a little to herself. _Beasley. Beeswax._ She wanted to laugh out loud then, but she didn't want to wake up Tandy. Deacon and Miss Beeswax were made for each other. She wouldn't let herself be tied down like that. The sky was the limit and everything was in front of her for the taking.

She finally fell asleep, a smile still on her face.

 _ **####**_

Deacon was playing at an outdoor space in East Nashville, behind one of the neighborhood bars that dotted the area. One thing he'd discovered since being in Nashville was that there was live music almost everywhere. It didn't matter if it was a dive bar or a honky tonk or a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. There were aspiring artists everywhere and they were all looking for a place to ply their trade, hoping for that chance of a lifetime, when some big time producer or label head happened to be out, listening for new voices, new sounds, and would sign someone on the spot. He suspected it didn't happen often, but he was always a little hopeful it might happen to him.

Vince and Stewart had showed up and the three of them jammed together. He enjoyed performing with them, but he still wanted to make a name for himself on his own. He had a good catalog of songs already and was always looking for something to inspire him. When he finally walked off the stage, he was a little surprised to see Watty White sitting off to the side. The other man beckoned to him and he headed that way.

"You got a minute?" Watty asked, when Deacon had reached his table.

Deacon nodded. "Sure."

Watty pointed towards the seat across from him. "Sit," he said, and Deacon did. Watty frowned. "You play with those other two often?"

Deacon shrugged. "Sometimes. Not as a regular thing though."

Watty steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. "Any of the songs you do your own?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Well, when I play alone. I've wrote a lot." He was curious where Watty was going with this.

Watty nodded, not saying anything right way. Then he sat forward, dropping his hands in his lap. "You were great on stage with Rayna Jaymes the other night at the Exit/In."

Deacon slumped a little in his chair. "That wasn't nothing. Just helping her out, 'cause she ain't that good on guitar. I could tell she needed to, well…." He shrugged.

Watty gave him a tight smile. "She needed some help. So she could concentrate on what she was good at." He nodded. "It's okay. I actually was quite impressed. You're a very good guitar player, Deacon. Better than most of the session musicians I've heard."

Deacon smiled a little sheepishly. That was high praise. "Thank you, sir," he said, dropping his head a little.

"Stop calling me sir," Watty said, the sound of laughter in his voice. "Watty, please." He put his hands on the table. "Would you consider teaming up with Rayna? Playing guitar for her and singing background with her?"

Deacon frowned. "You mean, be her back up?" He shook his head. "I ain't here to be nobody's back up."

Watty waved his hand. "No, no, I mean like a duo. I'd need to hear the two of you sing together, but I think you'd be good together. There was a lot of chemistry on that stage."

Deacon took a deep breath and then stood up. "Look, Mr. White, I appreciate that and all, but I ain't looking to be a duo with nobody. I was gonna do that with my sister, but she went home, so that's the end a that. If you're interested in me as a solo act, I'll listen, but me and Rayna aren't a match." He picked up his guitar and headed towards the parking lot.

"Think about it!" Watty called after him. Deacon just shook his head and kept walking.

* * *

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Rayna since the night at the Exit/In. He kept remembering how she'd run off from him. It had just confirmed for him that he needed to stay away from her. But he still couldn't stop thinking about her. He'd dream about her at night and her face was in front of him during the day. He was just glad that she wasn't calling him, asking about guitar lessons.

Watty's offer had been surprising, but it was true, that wasn't what he wanted. He really wanted to be a solo act. That had even been true when he'd come with Beverly, but she was his sister and he'd done it for her. But now that she was gone, he wasn't really interested in teaming up with someone.

He kept busy, busing tables in the mornings at the diner, running the sound board at Robert's in the afternoon, and playing anywhere he could in the evenings, either on his own or with Vince and Stewart. He tried spending more time with Samantha, hoping that would help push the unwanted thoughts away. Samantha had given him an ultimatum though, after the night at the Exit/In. _You're either all in with me or you're not, Deacon. There's no halfway with me._ He wasn't sure he was all in – with _anyone_ – but staying with Samantha helped him steer clear of Rayna.

* * *

It had been several weeks since the Exit/In when Rayna called him. He'd been surprised to pick up the phone and hear her voice on the other end. "Hey, Deacon, it's Rayna," she said, sounding perky.

"Uh, what's up?"

"Well, I was talking to Mr. White the other day and…."

He scowled into the phone. "I told him I ain't interested," he said, raising his voice, angry that Watty would have gone behind his back to her.

She was silent for a moment. "What?"

"I done told him I ain't interested in being in a duo. With you or anybody."

"I don't know what…."

"Look, Rayna, I helped you out, but I can't do that no more. I'm trying to make it on my own, same as you, and I don't have time to be your back up."

"Hey, wait a…."

He huffed. "Look, I gotta go." And he hung up the phone. Then he stood there for a moment, realizing he was shaking. He hadn't really meant to be that harsh with her, but he didn't want to drag her down. Watty was right, she needed a guitar player, but he just couldn't be the one to do that.

The phone started to ring again and he looked at it. Then he picked up his guitar and keys and headed out the door.

* * *

He was setting up the sound board at Robert's, not really paying attention to what was going on around him. So he didn't hear the footsteps approach until she slammed her open palm on the top of the board. He looked up. Rayna was red in the face, her eyes practically shooting fire and her mouth set in a grim line. He was so surprised, he couldn't speak.

"How dare you hang up on me!" she shouted. The customers who were in the place turned to look.

He took a deep breath. "Rayna, I'm sor…."

"You are probably the rudest, most horrible person I know, Deacon Claybourne!" she said angrily. "I called to see if you could still give me guitar lessons and you just dump all over me for no reason." Her hands were on her hips at this point. "I have no idea what you and Watty talked about but you had no right to talk to me that way."

He could see people craning around to look and some of the other staff had come out of the back. He walked around the board and put his hand on her arm to lead her out, but she pulled away from him. "Rayna," he said, his voice low.

"Don't touch me!" she cried.

"Let's go outside and talk," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk to you. I'm sorry I was ever nice to you. I'm sorry I thought we could be friends, or anything else. I just wanted to tell you that you're despicable and mean and I hope I never see you again." With that, she whirled around and marched back out the front door. He was too stunned to do anything but watch.

When he finally regained his composure, he was conscious of the fact that people were still staring at him and he felt a combination of anger and embarrassment. He looked away and went back behind the board. His hands were shaking with emotion and he breathed in and out, trying to settle himself. Then he thought about something she had said. _I'm sorry I thought we could be friends, or anything else._

He wondered what she had meant by the 'anything else'.

 _ **####**_

Her anger had somewhat dissipated by the time she got back to her car, just returned to her by her father. That's when she started to shake and tears filled her eyes. She stomped her foot, angry at herself for crying, and swiped at her tears. She got in the car and sat for a moment, digesting the whole fight she'd just had with Deacon. She still wasn't sure what he was talking about, what he meant by not wanting to be her back up. She needed to talk to Watty, ask him what that was about. But whatever it was, he had no right to hang up on her or be so mean.

Finally she pulled out of the parking lot and headed over to Music Row.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Rayna," Watty was saying, as he sat on the edge of his desk, a contrite look on his face. "I just thought the two of you really sounded great out there on the stage. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you first."

She sat there, her arms crossed over her chest. She'd been angry again when she arrived at Watty's office, but, after he'd explained why he'd reached out to Deacon, she felt a little nauseous. She'd said some terrible things to him, and he'd clearly been surprised at her outburst. Now she felt like she'd made a mess of everything and that she'd probably lost a friend in the process.

"Well, I guess I still need someone to teach me to play guitar," she said then. "Or to play for me." She sighed. "I think his girlfriend wouldn't have let him help me out anyway. She seems kind of possessive."

Watty smiled then. "Girlfriends can be that way," he said. "Look, we'll find you someone. Let me worry about that."

She looked up at him and nodded, but she still felt bad about her behavior. As she got up and left his office, she felt like she needed to apologize, even if Deacon stayed mad at her. She walked out to her car and went back downtown.

 _ **####**_

Deacon was surprised when he looked up and saw Rayna standing in front of him. He felt himself tense up, wondering why she was back. He frowned.

"I went to see Watty and he told me what he asked you," she said. He could barely hear her above the music and had to lean a little closer. "I'm sorry."

He breathed in, then shrugged. "Okay," he said.

She stood there for a moment and he wasn't sure if she was going to say something else or not. Finally she squared her shoulders. "That's it then," she said. "That's all I wanted to say." Then she turned and walked back out, his eyes following her until she was gone.

 _ **####**_

Watty was waiting for her out behind Douglas Corners. He'd told her it was a newer venue, a great spot for up-and-comers like her. It was another of those showcases, so she would be there with a lot of other performers and would only have to do three songs. She'd been hesitant to come, wondering if Deacon would be there, but she'd shrugged it off. This was _her_ career and she needed to do whatever Watty told her and not worry about Deacon Claybourne.

Watty smiled when she walked up. "I got you right in the middle, so you won't be the warm up and there should be a good crowd by the time you go on."

She smiled, feeling a little anxious, like she always did right before she went on stage. She wondered if that feeling would ever go away. "Thanks, Watty," she said. "Do you know how many other people are here?"

"It seems like they have a good group lined up. Ten acts." He looked at her carefully. "You're not nervous, are you?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not," she said, even though she was. "I'm excited."

* * *

As she waited backstage, a young guy with sandy blond hair and hazel eyes sat next to her. He was tall and lanky and he seemed pretty relaxed. She had noticed him earlier, standing with another guy, with dark hair and a husky build. They looked a little familiar, but she couldn't place where she might have seen them before. He turned to her then and held his hand out. "Hey, there, I'm Stewart," he said. "Stewart Osborne."

She smiled, taking his hand. "Rayna. Nice to meet you, Stewart."

He looked around. "This your first time here?"

She nodded. "I didn't even know this place was here."

"It's pretty new, but the good news is that you can do covers here. So for people like me that don't write songs, it works."

"Have you been in Nashville long?" she asked.

He laughed, an easy laugh. "All my life," he said, with a grin. "I was born and raised here."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Me too."

"Wow. I think we might be unique in the room then. What part of town?"

She bit her lip. She always hated telling people where she was from, like they would assume she felt entitled and all. So she hedged a little. "Over near West End."

"Ah, the good side of town." He nodded. "I grew up in Whites Creek, but now I live in Lockeland. Over by East Nashville."

She smiled. "The cool part of town."

He laughed. "I don't know how cool it is, but it's cheap for us folks that gotta make a living." A dig, she knew, even though it was a soft one. She decided to ignore it. He looked at her carefully. "You look familiar. Have you been at one of these before?"

She shook her head. "Not here. I did one at Exit/In a while back though."

He looked thoughtful. "Maybe that's it. If you're gonna be doing these, I'm sure we'll see each other a lot. Most everyone does 'em."

Just then, someone came back and called out her name. "Rayna? We're ready for you."

She got up and picked up her guitar. "It was nice to meet you, Stewart," she said.

He smiled. "I'll see you after. I'm last. Well, me and my friend are." He nodded toward the dark-haired, husky guy, who seemed to be hitting on a server.

She smiled. "See you then," she said, with a wave, and then followed the person out to the stage.

* * *

It felt comforting to look out over the crowd and see Watty, leaning against the front wall, smiling his approval. The crowd was an appreciative one. At the beginning of one of her songs, she played a wrong chord sequence, and felt embarrassed, so she stopped and started over, and then felt comforted again by the fact that there was an understanding acceptance that things happen like that. When she walked off the stage, she felt energized and happy. She smiled and waved at the crowd, as they gave her an appreciative send-off.

She half-skipped, half ran backstage, feeling warm all over. Stewart was standing with his friend and they waved her over. "You were great, girl!" he said, with a big smile.

She felt like she had a goofy grin on her face. "Really? You think so?"

"Damn, girl, you got a voice that won't quit," the other guy said.

"This is Vince," Stewart said, gesturing towards his friend. "Steer clear of him, though, 'cause he chases every tail in town."

She felt herself blush. "Oh, okay," she said, not really sure how to take that. Just then Watty walked up to rescue her.

"Great job, Rayna," he said, gently trying to steer her away.

Just before they walked off, Stewart reached out and handed her a napkin. "I'm having a party next Thursday. You should come. Out by the pool. Lots of people from here will be there" – he gestured towards some of the other performers – "so it'll be fun. Just a hang out with other people starting out. If you can."

She looked at him, then down at the napkin. It was an address on Ordway. She looked back. "Thanks," she said, not committing, and then she let Watty lead her out the back entrance.

 _ **####**_

He walked up the steps to Stewart and Vince's apartment. He guessed he understood why the apartment management would let them use the pool for their party, but lock the pool house. Stewart and Vince would surely not clean it up. He shook his head as he let himself in.

After he used the restroom, he plucked a beer out of the fridge and downed it in one swallow. He tossed the empty bottle in the trash and let out a loud belch. Then he got another beer and headed for the door. He hadn't been to one of Stewart and Vince's parties in a while. They usually got pretty crazy and he usually got pretty trashed. He'd sort of needed it, he'd thought, when they told him about it. He'd finally broken things off with Samantha and he'd been surprised at how much lighter he'd felt without that relationship.

Samantha wouldn't have let him come to a party like this by himself. There were a lot of things she didn't want him doing by himself. He wasn't ready to be all in. That's what he'd told her. Not with her, not with anyone. He wanted to concentrate on his music, not be suffocated by her watchfulness. So he'd broken up with her, a little surprised she was less upset about it than he'd thought she'd be. But he hadn't looked back and he hadn't missed her at all, although he did sometimes miss the sex.

He opened the door and walked out onto the walkway, heading for the stairs down to the parking lot level. He glanced over at the pool, across the way. It was a good turnout and someone was already singing. It was a good group of people, even if they did get rowdy after a while. As he started down the steps, his eye caught something and he stopped. He stared at the back of a girl with reddish-gold hair and his heart started pounding. It couldn't be Rayna, though. As far as he knew, she didn't know Stewart or Vince.

He kept watching. He hadn't seen Rayna since that day she'd come in and apologized, after the fight they'd had. Or more accurately, the fight she'd had with him. He hadn't heard from her, hadn't run across her. He didn't know how to reach her anyway. He wouldn't have just gone to her house and he couldn't remember the name of her school, or if she'd even told him the name of it. But it was mid-June already, so she was probably done with school for the summer. His heart was still pounding as he watched Stewart walk up to the girl. It couldn't be her.

Then she turned so that he could see part of her face and it was like there'd been a rush of blood to his head. _Rayna._


	14. Chapter 14

Deacon just stared at Rayna for a moment. _Why is she here? And how did she get here?_ He could see her laughing with Vince and he frowned. No matter why she was there or how she got there, she shouldn't be hanging out with Vince. Vince was always looking for a booty call and he didn't think Rayna should be messing around with him. He hurried down the steps then and out to the pool.

In the time it took him to reach the pool, she had moved on. Vince was talking to someone else and Deacon walked up to him, tapping him firmly on the arm. Vince turned. "Where is she?" Deacon asked, knowing he sounded a little curt.

"She who?" Vince asked.

"Rayna. The girl with the red hair."

Vince smiled and waggled his eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, that hot redhead." He leaned towards Deacon, a little conspiratorially. "I heard she was just sixteen," he said, his voice low. "Otherwise, I'd be hitting on her big time." Deacon felt himself get angry and he shoved at Vince. Vince threw his hands up in the air. "Hey, bud, what the hell was that for?"

Deacon scowled at him. "Don't try nothing with her," he said, pointing his hand with the bottle of beer at him.

"It's not like she's your girlfriend or anything," Vince said. Then he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so maybe you _want_ her to be?"

Deacon got in his face. "Shut up, Vince." He was sort of surprised at how protective he felt. She was just sixteen, though, too young for the likes of someone like Vince. Or anyone else at this party. He still wondered how she had ended up here. He started looking around for her. It wasn't like it was a huge crowd, but somehow she seemed to have disappeared. He walked around and ran into Stewart. "Where's Rayna?" he asked.

Stewart looked surprised. "You know Rayna?"

Deacon nodded. "You know she's a kid, right? What's she doing here?"

"Relax, man, it's cool. She just wanted to meet some other people like us, just trying to make it in the music business."

Deacon scowled. "How'd you meet her?"

Stewart shrugged. "A showcase at Douglas Corners." He narrowed his eyes. "What's the big deal? It's not like she's your girlfriend or anything."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Deacon said, his voice getting loud, as Stewart started to walk away. "She's young. She don't need to be here."

"Deacon!" came a voice from behind him. He turned to see Rayna standing there. She looked surprised. "I didn't know you knew Stewart and Vince."

He put his hands on his hips and glared at her. "I didn't know _you_ knew them. They ain't the kinda people you should be hanging out with, you know."

She frowned and then she raised her eyebrows. "Why not?" she asked. "I hung out with _you_. Aren't you like them?"

He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. "Ain't this a school night or something?" he asked, ignoring her question.

She rolled her eyes. "It's summer. School's out." She looked around at the people who were gathered around the pool. "You hang out with these people too?"

He shrugged, his anger diminishing and his heart beating harder, the longer he was standing with her. "Sometimes. I see 'em around different places." He thought about something Stewart had said. "You did Douglas Corners?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Watty took me." She smiled proudly. "He said he's gonna get more of those kind of things for me. I was actually surprised you weren't there."

He couldn't remember why he wouldn't have been, now that he thought about it. "I don't know. Maybe working, or something."

She smiled teasingly. "Or a date."

He shook his head. "Probably not." He looked around, then back at her. "You want something to drink?" She started to answer and he shook his head. "Not alcohol."

"Oh, of course not. Is there Diet Coke, do you think?"

"Probably. I'll go get you something."

She smiled at him. "Okay. I'll wait here."

He hesitated just a second, thinking how pretty she looked and how glad he was that he'd run into her, although he still thought she was too young to be hanging out with this crowd. He smiled back. "Okay. Be right back." He headed over to where there was a big tub of drinks and he fished out a Coke, taking it back to her. She took it and looked at it. "Sorry it ain't diet," he said and looked around at the group. "I don't think anyone here drinks diet."

She shrugged. "It's okay." She smiled, a smile that lit up her face and caused her eyes to sparkle. "One regular Coke won't hurt me."

He smiled back, then looked around again. "You know anyone else here besides Stewart and Vince?"

She shrugged. "A couple people." She looked up at him. "And, well, you."

He took a swallow of the beer in his hand and made a face when he realized it was warm. He tossed the bottle in a trash can. "If you wanna walk over here while I get a Coke, I can introduce you to some people," he said.

She looked at him, surprise on her face. "That would be really nice," she said and they walked over to the drink tub.

* * *

He noticed she was looking at her watch. "You gotta go?" he asked, feeling kind of disappointed. They had walked around and he'd introduced her to the people he knew and then they had sat in a couple of the lounge chairs and listened to the music. These kind of parties could sometimes get rowdy and he was glad this one had not. People mostly behaved and Vince had found a girl he could hit on, so he'd left Rayna alone.

She shrugged. "Probably. Daddy's not home, but I don't want to raise any red flags." She smiled. "Vernice wouldn't though."

He frowned. "Who's Vernice?"

She blushed a little and he was reminded how much he liked that about her. "Our housekeeper." She looked a little embarrassed.

"No need to be embarrassed." She looked at him, but didn't contradict him, so he was pretty sure she was afraid he'd think she was bragging. "You want me to walk you to your car? It's kinda dark out."

She bit her lip. "Actually I was gonna get a cab or something."

He shook his head, frowning. "Nah, you can't do that. This ain't really a place you wanna get a cab from." He breathed in. "I could take you home." He thought she might turn him down, probably _would_ turn him down, but then she surprised him.

"You wouldn't mind? You don't want to stay?"

"I don't need to. And no, I don't mind." He gave her a quick smile. "Let's go."

 _ **####**_

She was surprised to see Deacon, but then decided that she wasn't after all. She figured he probably did run in these circles, with other up and coming and wanna-be artists. He was probably the same age as the rest of them and seemed to have known many of them when they had both been at the Exit/In. She hadn't seen him since that last encounter at Robert's and she felt both excited and nervous when she saw him talking to Stewart Osborne.

She had decided to just be friendly, hoping he didn't hold a grudge or anything. He was nice to her, though, almost like he was looking out for her. As they walked around so he could get something to drink, she had searched the crowd for the person she'd come with. She had met Autumn Chase at the Douglas Corners showcase and they had instantly connected, even though Autumn was a couple years older. Eighteen seemed so much older than sixteen and she had tried hard not to be too childish, but the two of them had spent a lot of time giggling together.

Autumn was chatting up Vince, her hand on Vince's arm and her hips tilted towards him in a provocative way. She felt her cheeks get a little warm. She knew Autumn wanted to get into Vince's pants, because she'd told her so, and it had both intrigued and scared her a little bit to even think about doing that with a man. She had looked back at Deacon as he reached into the tub to pull out a drink. She noticed his strong, muscular arm and the way his jeans hugged his butt in a very attractive way as he leaned forward. When he turned back to her, she hoped she wasn't blushing too much. She couldn't help but think again that he was very handsome and she felt her heartbeat speed up.

They sat and listened to music for a while. Then she turned to him. "Are you going to play anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I didn't bring my guitar. Just wanted to hang out." He nodded at her. "Are you?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I just wanted to get out of the house. It's kind of lonely in that house all day. Daddy's gone a lot and my sister – Tandy – she's gone to her boyfriend's family's beach house this week."

"What about your friends from school?"

She shrugged. "I don't have a lot of friends at school."

He frowned. "How come?"

She shrugged again. "They think I'm a dork. Because I like country music. And, I guess, because I'm sort of a good girl." She lowered her voice on the last part. "They think I'm weird, or something."

He kept frowning. "That ain't nice. Nothing wrong with being a nice girl." Then he winked at her. "Or liking country music." He smiled. "So, Kris Kristofferson or Johnny Cash?"

"What?"

He grinned then. "The outlaw game. You never heard of that?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No, I haven't."

"You know what outlaw country music is, right?" She wasn't sure, so she shook her head a little hesitantly. "Well, it's that country music that's outside of Nashville, mostly, kind of country with a rock 'n roll sound to it. Kind of an outlaw thing." He smiled again and his eyes twinkled just a bit. "So. Kristofferson or Cash?"

She grinned. This was fun. "Cash, for sure."

"Merle Haggard or Waylon Jennings?"

She thought for a second. "Merle, I guess. What about you?"

"Well, Cash for the first and Merle too." He looked off to the side, then back at her. "One more. Jessi Colter or Emmylou Harris."

She crossed her hands over her heart. "Ooh, that's a hard one. I don't know if I can pick."

He gave her a sly smile. "You got to."

She breathed in. "Mm, Jessi, I guess. No! Emmylou. Oh, wait. Jessi. Oh, this is hard. I love them both." She sighed. "I think I just love a good country love story." She smiled at him. "My favorites are Jessi and Waylon, and Johnny and June. I just love the woman who loves that hard livin' man, you know? Loves him in spite of everything." She reached out and touched his arm briefly. "You know the song Waylon does – 'Amanda' – that says everything." She sang softly, her eyes closed. "Amanda, light of my life. Fate should have made you a gentleman's wife." She opened her eyes. "You know that one, right?"

He nodded, a strange look on his face. Then it was gone and he sang back to her. "Jessi liked the Cadillacs and diamonds on her hands / Waymore had a reputation as a ladies man / Late one night her light of love finally gave a sign / Jessi parked her Cadillac and took her place in line." He smiled.

She laughed and clapped her hands. "Even more perfect!" She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "You ever think one day you might be like Waylon or Merle or even Johnny?"

He shook his head with a wry smile. "It would be like a dream come true, you know? I don't know if I'm that good though."

She smiled at him. "I bet you could do it. If you really wanted to and put your mind to it. You have a great voice and you play a mean guitar. Plus you write your own songs. You've got the whole package!"

He blushed a little, which nearly made her swoon. She was so glad she'd run into him at the party and that they seemed to fall back into their old rhythm. "I don't know about all that, but _you_ " – he pointed at her – "you definitely got what it takes."

"Except for _still_ not being able to play the guitar." She rolled her eyes.

He smiled a little shyly. "Maybe I could help you with that again sometime," he said.

"I would love that," she said softly. For a minute it felt like everything around them sort of faded into the darkness and she had that flash of something that seemed to feel like magic. Then someone yelled out something and it sort of broke the moment. She felt a little dazed as she looked around and realized how dark it was. She looked down at her watch and saw that it was almost ten.

"You gotta go?" he asked and, when she looked up, she thought she saw disappointment in his eyes.

 _ **####**_

As they headed for the truck, he felt like there was a vise around his chest, and he could hardly draw breath. The idea of being in his truck with her, alone, was intoxicating. He'd been afraid being around her would feel awkward, after the way things had ended the last time he'd seen her, but he'd been encouraged. It had felt like they had reconnected or, maybe more accurately, just fallen back into their more comfortable rhythm, back to being the people they were when they'd first met.

They were silent on the walk. He struggled to even know what to say. When they got to his truck, he opened the passenger door for her. "Sorry it's not nothing great," he said, feeling a little embarrassed by his old truck.

She smiled at him. "I've always wanted to ride in a pick-up truck," she said. She put her foot on the edge of the floor board and pushed herself up and into the seat. She smiled back at him. "It's fine."

He finally felt like he could breathe a little and he waited until she was all settled, then shut the door. He hustled around to the driver's side and got in, putting his key in the ignition and starting it up. He looked over at her. "You might have to remind me how to get where you live," he said. "I only been the one time."

"Do you know how to get to West End?" she asked. He nodded. "Then it's easy. Just get there first."

* * *

She had mostly just looked out the window as he'd headed out of East Nashville and then headed towards downtown on Woodland. As they passed some of the old stone bungalows that were typical of the area, she pointed and then looked at him. "I would love to live in one of those someday," she said. "I've always thought they were so cute."

That surprised him. "But you got that big house," he said. "You don't like that?"

She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. "I mean, it's a beautiful house, but it's so big. It's always just felt like too much. And since my mom's been gone, well, it's just sort of empty." She smiled at him sadly. "I just want to live someplace cozy, where there's laughing and music and love and family, and we're close to each other." She sighed.

He glanced over at her and thought she looked a little sad. "You miss your mom?"

She nodded. "I do." She breathed in, then out. "She was the one who really got me interested in music. In _country_ music. Daddy hates it, but she loved it and she shared it with me. She and Tandy and I used to go out to this place on the river, some land she owned, and just sit in the sun and sing together. Enjoy the peace and quiet and a place that was not all fancy. I miss that too."

He thought that her life had been so different from his, in every single way. Growing up in Natchez had been hard and all he'd ever wanted to do was to escape it, and escape the pain and fear. He'd left Mississippi when his mom died, but he couldn't really say that he missed her much. She had tried, but had really never been able to protect him and Beverly from their father. He breathed in, trying to rid himself of those memories. "Sounds like a good place," he said.

She smiled at him. "It was. So pretty. Kind of wild, since nothing had ever been built there."

"You been out there lately?"

She shook her head. "No, not since before she died. I guess it belongs to Daddy now, but I don't know if he was ever that interested in it." They were crossing over the river then and she turned back to look out the window. "I love crossing the river and coming into downtown with the lights at night," she said.

He'd never really much thought about it, but he tried to see it through her eyes. It surprised him some, because she was born into privilege and wealth and yet she seemed enchanted by simple things, like the bungalows in East Nashville and driving over a river bridge. "You do that much?" he asked.

She looked back at him. "Not really. We never came over here much. But sometimes Mom would bring us over here, during the summer, for lunch, at one of the little restaurants around. She always said there was good music played at little hole in the wall places on the east side of the river."

He nodded. "That's true. There is. But then the bigger places, where you get seen, are over here."

"I wonder why that is?"

He shrugged. "Maybe people here have more money to spend to go see people. And tourists'll go downtown." They had turned onto Broadway by then, which he knew eventually became West End.

She was quiet for a few minutes, just watching as they drove past the businesses, mostly closed for the evening, along the road. Then she turned back to him. "How long do you think it takes to know if you're gonna make it or not?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like an artist?" She nodded. "I don't know. I guess it depends."

"On what?"

"If you got the right sound, the right people behind you. Luck too. Right place at the right time." He sighed. "Unfortunately, it ain't all talent."

She nodded. "That's true." She smiled a little. "Do you think you're outlaw country?"

He smiled and shrugged. "I don't know, but I do know there'd be worse things than being that."

"Would you go out on the road with Merle or Waylon?"

"If they asked? Hell, yeah, I would." He glanced over at her. "Sorry."

She shook her head and smiled. "It's okay. Not like I haven't heard that, and worse, before. My daddy has a temper."

He thought she probably didn't know the half of a father's temper, but said nothing. He noticed they had started to see a mix of residential and businesses. He saw the tower for the Belle Meade Theater and knew they must be close. He glanced over at her and noticed she seemed a little tense, her hands clenched together tightly in her lap. "We close?" he asked.

She looked over at him. "Yeah. The next light, turn left." He did and she guided him through the darkened streets of Belle Meade, the only lights coming from the windows of the large, expensive houses along the way. Then they had come up on the large hedge that hid her house from the street. "Right there," she said, pointing to an almost hidden driveway on the left. He turned and drove slowly up to the front of the house.

The lights outside the front door were lit and there was a light on to the left of the front door. He pulled up and stopped the truck, turning it off. He turned to look at her, but she just sat there. "You think anybody's waiting up for you?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe Vernice. Sometimes she'll stay up until we get home, just in case we want anything." She looked at him. "You want to come in?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah. I gotta work in the morning." She nodded, but still didn't move to get out. He watched her breathe in and out, her chest rising and falling. She looked so pretty that night. She had on jeans and a pretty top that accentuated her full breasts. Her hair barely brushed her shoulders, framing her face, with its creamy skin and sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

He couldn't have said why he slid over and kissed her, when he thought about it later, but it was as though he'd felt drawn to her. She didn't resist. In fact, she moved into his arms as easily as if she'd done it before. He pressed his lips against hers, feeling the soft fullness. He tugged on her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to his. He slid his tongue in her mouth, finding her own, feeling a curling warmth in the pit of his stomach that rose up to his chest. He put his arms around her, pulling her close, not wanting to let her go.

When he finally pulled his lips from hers, he still held her close against him. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him, her lips still slightly parted. He waited, his heart feeling like it had stopped beating, hoping she didn't push him away.

 _ **####**_

She sat back, trying to catch her breath. She looked at him and felt a shiver of excitement rush through her body. She put her hand on his chest, as though she was trying to keep him away. "If you're gonna kiss me like that, you need to break up with Samantha Beeswax," she said.

A sly smile came over his face. "Samantha _Beeswax_?" he asked, a soft chuckle in his voice.

She could feel herself get red. "Beasley. I'm sorry." She breathed in. "But you can't do that again if you're with her."

He leaned in and kissed her again, letting his lips linger. She felt her mouth open again, as though she had no control over it, and the taste of him was intoxicating. She'd never kissed a boy quite like this before but she liked it. She liked it a lot.

He pulled a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. "I'm done with her," he said, his voice husky like warm caramel against her lips.

She sat back again and looked at him with surprise. "You are?" He nodded. She bit her lip. "So…what does this mean?"

He breathed in and ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. "It means I…like you." She thought she heard just the slightest hesitation before he said 'like' and wondered if that was really what he wanted to say. "And I'd like to see you more. Again."

She felt like she couldn't breathe. "You would?" she squeaked out.

He smiled. "I would."

"Me too." He leaned in and kissed her again and she could have sworn fireworks were going off in her head. When he pulled his lips from hers, she looked up at him. "When?"

He laughed softly. "How 'bout our regular guitar time?"

She nodded. "I'd like that." She finally felt like she could breathe again and suddenly realized they were still sitting in his truck outside her house. "Um, I guess I need to go in." She smiled. "Thanks for bringing me home." She reached up and ran her thumb over his cheek, feeling the light stubble on his face. "I can't wait until Thursday."

He looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and pulled her into his arms again, kissing her long and hard. She felt giddy and hot and dizzy and happy, all at the same time. When he finally let her go and she opened the car door, she was almost afraid she would faint. But she stepped out of the truck and turned back. "Good night, Deacon," she said.

He smiled. "Good night, Rayna."

She closed the door, then turned and ran towards the steps, turning back when she got to the top, watching his truck drive back down the driveway. She stood on the porch until long after the red tail lights were gone and she couldn't hear his truck any longer. She put her hand over her heart, closed her eyes, and smiled. She'd never felt so happy in her life.


	15. Chapter 15

Rayna let herself into the house and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She first did a little pirouette around the room, then stopped in front of her full length mirror. She wondered if she looked different somehow. She stepped closer, gazing at her lips. They seemed just the slightest bit puffy and she put her fingers over them, thinking back to when Deacon's lips were pressed against them. She shivered as she remembered how it felt to have his tongue battling hers, to feel his arms around her, pressing her against his chest.

His mouth tasted a little bit like beer, but mostly like Coke. It was warm and moist, his tongue kind of rough against her own. She shivered again, a warm feeling rushing through her whole body. She'd only been kissed like that once before and it definitely didn't feel like _that_ , didn't make her feel like her whole body was on fire. Billy McIntosh had tried kissing her at a school dance during her sophomore year. She didn't mind kissing him on the lips, but when he forced his tongue in her mouth, she was horrified. Of course, then he'd told everyone she was a tease and not that good a kisser anyway. She'd been both mortified and angry, but mostly just hurt.

She looked at herself again. She didn't look any different, but then that was probably a silly thought. It wasn't as though she'd had _sex_ or anything. It was just a kiss. A really _good_ kiss, but just a kiss nonetheless. It did make her stop to think about the rest of it. _Will he expect me to have sex? He's older and I'm sure he had sex with Samantha Beeswax. In fact, I'm sure of it. I hope he doesn't expect me to…yet. But what if it means he doesn't want to kiss me anymore, if I won't?_

She sighed. So many questions and no answers. Deacon was a grown up man, though. Maybe he was just nineteen, but he'd been on his own for a while, she knew that. And boys _did_ expect more. She knew that too, because Tandy had told her that. She went over to her closet and changed into a nightgown, then went to the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then she crawled into bed and turned out the light.

She couldn't sleep though. She'd gone to that party without any expectations. She hadn't even known Deacon would be there. Even if she'd known, she would never have thought he'd be nice to her or that, at the end of the night, he would kiss her. _That_ was so unexpected. And he'd kissed her again. And again. And then one more time. So it wasn't a mistake.

She tried reliving it all over again, remembering the light scrape of his stubble across her chin, the feel of his lips – a little rough – on hers. The feel of his knuckles against her skin. She wanted to kiss him some more. She wanted him to hold her in his arms. She wanted... _what exactly_ _do_ _I want?_

She rolled over onto her side, crossing her arms over her waist. She wondered what it would be like to have sex. With him. She wondered if it was like what she'd read in those romance books she liked. Where the man would grab the woman and push her down on the bed, pushing up the inevitable gown. The books always described it as being magical, sometimes a little painful at first, but then always glorious. Tandy had always told her not to believe everything she read, but she wanted it to be magical. She wondered if Deacon would be gentle or if he would be like an outlaw. The songs made it seem like an outlaw would be an amazing lover, amazing enough to win over someone who was destined to be with a rich man, a gentleman. An outlaw would be exciting and hot. She felt her face burning.

She rolled onto her back and smiled. She couldn't wait until Thursday.

 _ **####**_

He'd sort of surprised himself when he kissed her. It wasn't like he'd planned it. Hell, he didn't even know she would be there, so there was no way could have thought it would happen. He hadn't even considered it, really, until they were sitting outside her house. He'd wanted to, for a while, he knew that, even though he'd tried to cover it up with Samantha. He smiled then. _Samantha Beeswax._ Clearly Rayna had thought about it or she would never have made up that name.

He had wondered what it would be like to kiss her and now that he had, it had been better than he'd expected. She made it seem like she was so inexperienced – and maybe she was – but that kiss was not an inexperienced kiss. It was real and amazing. She didn't shy away at all. He hadn't wanted to stop. Each time was better than the one before and she was completely all in.

He was so absorbed in thinking about Rayna and that kiss that he almost missed his turn. He pulled into the apartment parking lot a little fast and screeched the tires as he pulled into an empty parking space. He sat in the truck for a moment, then got out and raced up the steps, taking them two at a time. He let himself into the apartment and walked into the tiny kitchen, slamming his keys down on the counter. He reached in the cabinet for a glass and then pulled over the half-empty bottle of whiskey Vince had gotten for him.

He poured two fingers of whiskey into the glass and took a long swallow. He winced at the burn, then closed his eyes as he felt the warmth reach his belly and then curl back up his chest. Then he tipped the glass up and downed the rest. He poured another glass and then took it and the bottle and settled in on the couch. A half bottle of whiskey would only get him buzzed, but he was in the mood to celebrate.

He couldn't wait until Thursday.

 _ **####**_

She dressed carefully before she left the house. It was a warm, sunny day and, although she knew they'd be in the shade, it could still feel hot. She put on a denim skirt and a t-shirt and slipped on sandals. She brushed her hair into a side ponytail and tied a red ribbon around it. She had lightly applied makeup and she leaned into the mirror, tracing her lips with a light blush lip color. She stood back and looked at herself, then turned to check out both sides and her back. She was satisfied that she looked casual but pulled together.

She ran down the stairs and out to the kitchen, where Vernice was sitting at the table, looking at a magazine. She looked up when Rayna came in. "Where you off to, Miss Rayna?" she asked, with a smile.

"I have a guitar lesson," she said, with a smile.

"With that cute young man?" Vernice asked, with a wink.

Rayna could feel herself blush. "Yes," she said. "But it's just a guitar lesson." She was, of course, hoping it was a lot more than that, but she didn't want to alert Vernice to anything. At least not yet.

Vernice winked at her. "Looks like it's more than a guitar lesson to me," she said.

Rayna bit her lip. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you definitely are all dolled up, Miss Rayna. Your hair's all nice and you got makeup on. Plus that short skirt that shows off them long legs of yours."

Rayna looked down at the skirt. "Is it too short?" She looked back at the housekeeper. It wasn't her intention to go overboard.

Vernice clasped her hands together and smiled. "You look cute as a button, Miss Rayna. That young man will fall head over heels in love with you."

Rayna laughed a little self-consciously. "Well, I better run or I'll be late and he'll just be annoyed with me." She waved as she headed for the den. She picked up her guitar and then headed for the sliding doors that led out to the patio. She walked across the patio and out to the garage. She put her guitar in the back seat, got in the car and started it, and then headed for the road.

* * *

When she pulled into the parking lot, she could see him, already sitting on one of the picnic tables. He was hunched over his guitar and didn't look up until she was almost standing in front of him. It gave her a chance to watch him, his fingers flying across the strings, the muscles and tendons in his arms tightening as he played. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and, even though it was warm, he had on his cowboy boots. He looked up as she approached and she felt her heart start to beat faster as she looked into his sparkling blue eyes and thought about how it would feel to run her fingers through his shaggy dark brown hair, smoothing it back off his forehead.

She held her breath as he looked at her, wondering what he was thinking. Then a sweet smile crossed his face. "Hey," he said. "I was wondering if you ran into traffic."

She stood just looking at him, thinking the smile on her face probably looked goofy, but not being able to wipe it from her face. "No, just a little late getting away." Her mouth felt dry and her hands felt moist and her heart was still beating wildly.

He nodded his head to the place beside him. "Come on," he said. She took a deep breath, then walked over and set her case on the table, opening it and pulling out her guitar. Then she got up and sat next to him. He smiled and then leaned in and brushed her lips with a kiss. "I'm glad you're here," he said, with a shy smile.

She smiled back. "Me too."

 _ **####**_

He'd been the tiniest bit afraid she wasn't going to come. But then he looked up and there she was, the sunshine behind her, making her look like the angel she was. When she sat next to him, he couldn't help himself, and he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, as much because he wanted to as because he wanted to see her reaction. He could tell that she was leaning in too and then she smiled at him, that beautiful, sweet smile that lit up her face and put a sparkle in her eyes.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, setting his guitar aside.

"Me too."

He took a deep breath. "I missed you."

"Really?" He nodded. "I missed you too. And I really am sorry about yelling at you that last time I saw you."

He shook his head. "It's okay. I get it that you didn't know."

She made a face. "Well, I'll ask before I assume anything anymore." She looked like she'd just thought of something. "Speaking of that, you said you were done with Samantha. Did y'all break up?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Well…."

She shook her head and blushed. "Wait. You don't have to tell me. It's none of my business."

He breathed in. "I broke up with her because of you," he said, feeling like he was blowing out the words.

She looked surprised. "What?"

He shrugged. "I did it 'cause I wanted to be with you."

"But I had been so mean to you. And you didn't know if you'd ever see me again."

"I know. But I didn't want to be with _her_. 'Cause of _you_." He was sort of holding his breath, because he wasn't exactly sure she felt the same way he did. He took another deep breath. "When I saw you the first time at the Bluebird, I knew."

She looked stunned. "But you didn't even know me then," she said, breathlessly. "How could you have known?"

He wasn't sure he was ready yet to tell her she'd inspired a song. That seemed like it would scare her away. "Well, you were pretty and you had a pretty voice and you, well, you seemed nice. I could just tell, you were nice. Not fake."

She still looked a little surprised. "Wow," she said.

He bit his lip, afraid he'd gone too far. "I know, you think maybe I'm a loser or something," he said, looking away.

"No, no, not at all," she said, putting her hand on his arm. She smiled a little shyly. "I liked you too, when I saw you on stage. I thought you were…handsome. And you were a good singer too. And then you were so nice to me." She put her guitar behind her on the table, scooted closer to him and smiled more fully. "Kiss me again," she said. He leaned in and brushed her lips. When he pulled back, she was frowning. "No. Better than that." She grabbed his arms and leaned into him and he kissed her again, this time taking his time, tasting her mouth, then tugging at her lip until she opened her mouth to his. He wondered if she'd eaten candy before she came, or a breath mint, because her mouth and tongue tasted like peppermint, as sweet as she was. He lifted his hand and threaded his fingers in her hair, laying his hand against her neck as he kept kissing her. When he finally sat back, they were both a little breathless. She laughed. "That was much better," she said.

He smiled. "Yeah, it was." He moved a little closer to her and kissed her again, this time putting his arms around her waist. He felt her slide her arms around his neck and for a second, he felt like he wanted to cry. He would never have thought he could be with someone as perfect as Rayna. When he pulled back from her again, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling and a light flush across her cheeks.

She laughed a little self-consciously. "Should we be having a guitar lesson?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

He smiled. "I kinda like the kissing." He pushed her hair back from her face.

"I do too, but…isn't that why I'm here?"

He bit down on his lip. "I was thinking about that." She clasped her hands in her lap and looked at him. "So first of all, I was thinking maybe you'd let me be your guitar player. Like when you go somewhere, I can too, and play guitar for you."

She frowned a little. "Are you sure? I thought you didn't want to do that. And shouldn't I learn the guitar anyway?"

He sighed. "I just wanna help you out, Rayna," he said. "Make it easier for you. I can still teach you. If you want."

"Well, I _do_ want. I need to know how, I think. You know, when I'm working on songwriting, anyway."

He nodded. "We can do that then." He took a deep breath. "I was also thinking that maybe we could, you know…go on a date."

She raised her eyebrows. "A date? A real date?" He nodded. "Are you sure? I mean, because I'm sixteen. Almost seventeen though."

He let a smile play on his lips. "You trying to tell me you don't wanna go on a date?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all." She smiled. "I do want to go on a date." She lifted her clasped hands to the center of her chest. "What would we do?"

"I was thinking we could go somewhere and listen to music."

"Like the Bluebird?"

"Maybe. Or someplace else. It don't matter. Wherever we can get in."

She smiled. "I would love to. When?"

He let out a sharp laugh, thinking she was definitely spunky. "What about Saturday?"

She hesitated, biting down on her lip. "My father is gonna be home."

"Will he not let you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess he would." She looked at him. "You'd have to meet him."

That sort of felt intimidating. "Okay." He took a deep breath. "So, can I pick you up at 7?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yes." Then she reached back behind her and pulled her guitar onto her lap. "Now, it's time for that guitar lesson."

 _ **####**_

Her father had extended his trip into Sunday morning and Rayna had breathed a sigh of relief. She hoped that she wouldn't have to deal with him meeting Deacon just yet. It wasn't that she was worried about Deacon, but she knew her father would take one look at him and decide he wasn't 'our kind' or something equally obnoxious. It wouldn't matter that boys who were 'our kind' weren't interested in her or that she actually liked Deacon, Lamar Wyatt had always set a high bar for her and Tandy, no matter what it was. While she knew he would eventually meet Deacon, she wanted the relationship to be more solid when he did.

She dressed carefully, wearing a skirt and a sleeveless blouse. She would bring a light sweater, just in case the place where they went was chilly. She pulled on her red boots and then added some makeup. She brushed out her hair, which was long enough to skim her shoulders. She turned right, then left, checking herself in the mirror and she smiled, happy with what she saw. She had always been very pragmatic and honest about herself. She knew, when she looked in the mirror, that she was considered pretty and she tried to accentuate her eyes and her high cheekbones.

She picked up a cross body purse and slipped in some money, a comb, lip gloss and her house keys, then headed downstairs to wait. She sat in her father's study and looked out the window, waiting for Deacon to pull into the driveway. He was taking her to the Station Inn downtown, where they'd get a chance to see some bluegrass music. She had never been and was excited to see the famous landmark venue. Finally she saw Deacon's truck pull up to the front porch and she got up and ran out the door.

* * *

She was sitting at the table, waiting for Deacon to come back with drinks and food. The place was filling up and she felt a tingle of excitement. Bill Monroe was one of her mother's favorites, so she was familiar with bluegrass music. His rendition of 'Wayfaring Stranger' had made a huge impression on her when she'd first heard it. It had affected her in a way no other song really had. There had been many songs she loved, songs that had made her want to sing country music, but that song had touched something deep inside her. It had struck her, when her mother died, that the song had, in many ways, foretold what was coming. And again, it had rocked her.

Just then Deacon came back and put pizza and drinks on the table, then slid into the chair next to her. She had to breathe in and out, pushing down the intense feelings she'd had from just thinking about 'Wayfaring Stranger'. She looked at him and smiled. "Pepperoni pizza and" – he slid a Diet Coke over to her – "Diet Coke for you." He had a regular Coke.

"This is great," she said, pulling the plate with the pizza between the two of them. She picked up a slice. "I haven't had pizza in I couldn't tell you how long." She bit off the end of the slice. The cheese was perfect and the pepperoni was the right amount of spicy.

He laughed. "Really? You don't got pizza places in Belle Meade?" He emphasized 'Belle Meade' like he was making fun and she laughed.

"Yes, we have pizza places. But Daddy doesn't eat pizza. We always have to have a regular meal. So this is a treat."

"You like bluegrass music?"

She nodded. "I do, although I don't listen to it real often. I'm excited for this though."

"So this is gonna be like a guitar pull. You ever done one of those?"

She gave him a look. "Are you kidding? Me and a guitar?"

He laughed. "You could still do that. Anyway, it's like that, only it's bluegrass. Anyone who wants to come can play and they'll take turns. Writer's rounds at the Bluebird are like that, except it's more formalized. You'll like it."

"I can't wait."

* * *

It was an amazing night and a perfect first date, as it turned out. After they'd finished their pizza, Deacon put his arm around the back of her chair and brushed her bare shoulder with his thumb. He'd periodically lean over and give her a peck on the lips. He knew some of the people who were playing and he'd point them out. She was sorry when it was over and it was time for them to leave.

As they walked out of the venue and around the corner to where he'd parked, he took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. She couldn't help but smile. She really liked Deacon Claybourne and she was glad she'd run into him at Stewart Osborne's party. He held the door open for her as she got in the truck and then they headed back to Belle Meade.

She was surprised to see lights on when they drove up to the front porch. There were lights on in both her father's study and the dining room. She was sure she'd turned out the light in the study and she felt a little queasy, wondering if her father had come home early. Deacon got out of the truck and hustled around to open the door for her. As he walked her up the steps, the front door opened and Lamar Wyatt was standing there, his face impassive.

They stopped. "Daddy," she said, feeling nervous.

"I didn't know you were going out tonight, Rayna," Lamar said, his voice measured and firm.

"Well, you weren't home, so you wouldn't have known," she said, feeling Deacon's hand laying protectively against her back. "When did you get back?"

"Not long ago," he said dismissively. He looked over at Deacon. There was a tight smile on his face, but she could see it wasn't reaching his eyes. "And who's this?"

She was going to introduce him, but Deacon stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Deacon Claybourne, sir."

Lamar ignored his outstretched hand. "I don't believe you live around here, do you, Mr. Claybourne?" he asked.

Deacon dropped his hand, stepping back to stand next to her. "Uh, no sir, I don't. I live over in East Nashville."

Lamar raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly is it that someone from…over there would know my daughter?"

Rayna decided she needed to step in here. "I met him at the Bluebird, Daddy. Tandy and I went one night and he and his sister were performing."

"Ah, so he's a singer, is he?"

"Yes, sir," Deacon said. She could tell he was a little confused by her fudging on the story, so she hoped he would let her take the lead.

"He is, Daddy. A very good one, actually."

Lamar stood there, his arms crossed, just looking at the two of them. "Rayna, I think you need to come inside. It's late." She hesitated, wanting to talk to Deacon. "Rayna, did you hear me?" Her father glared at her.

She turned to Deacon. "Thanks, Deacon. I had a great time. I'll talk to you soon." Deacon nodded, not saying a word, and then he turned and went back down the steps and got into his truck. She watched him drive off and then turned back to where her father was still standing at the top of the steps.

"That's the last time you'll see Deacon Claybourne, young lady," her father said, as he turned to walk back into the house.

She frowned. "Why? Just because he's not from here?" Her father kept walking and she ran up the rest of the steps and into the house. "He's nice, Daddy, very polite."

"I'm sorry, Rayna, but you live in my house and he's not the type we want around here." He headed for his study. She followed him, standing at the door with her fists clenched.

"That's absurd. If I want to go out with him, I will."

Lamar whirled around, his eyes steely and his face red with anger. He pointed his finger at her. "Oh, no you won't, young lady. You follow _my_ rules, as long as you live in my house. And he belongs on the other side of the river, not taking my daughter out God knows where."

"That's just ridiculous. Where he lives doesn't matter. He's nice and he's talented and he treats me with respect. He _likes_ me, Daddy."

"That's the problem, Rayna. You're meant for much better than some uneducated ragamuffin who came here to play hillbilly music. I forbid you to see him again." He turned and walked to his chair by the fireplace. "That's the last I want to hear about it either."

She stood, fuming, at the door, then finally turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. _I will do whatever I want. He's not going to keep me from seeing Deacon._


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: This chapter's a little short, but I know it's been a little bit since I'd posted, so I wanted to get something out there. I think things are going to free up a little pretty soon, so hopefully in the future it won't be as long between chapters. Hope you enjoy!_

Rayna walked into the kitchen on Sunday morning to get toast and tea for breakfast. When she carried it out to the dining room table, she was surprised to see her father there, reading the paper, dressed for church, his jacket laying across the arm of his chair. He looked up at her and smiled, one of those smiles that didn't reach his eyes. "You're not dressed, Rayna," he said, his voice deceptively pleasant.

She looked down at her jeans and t-shirt, then back at him. "Actually I _am_ dressed," she said, as she sat.

"For church, young lady," he said. The pleasantness had vanished.

"I'm not going." She reached for the jam caddy and lifted the lid from the peach preserves. She dipped her knife in and transferred a generous portion to her toast.

"Excuse me?"

She looked over at her father. "I said, I'm not going." She concentrated on spreading the preserves, waiting to see what he would say.

He let out an exasperated laugh. "I'm sorry, but that's not an option, Rayna. Your sister will be here soon and the three of us are going to church, just like always. And then we have reservations for lunch at the country club."

She sighed. "I'd rather not go today, Daddy."

"I don't think you heard me, Rayna." She looked at him and the benign look on his face had been replaced by an angry look, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. As long as you live in this house, you'll do as I say."

"What if I have other plans?" She didn't, but she didn't want to just roll over either.

"Cancel them," he growled. Just then the front door opened and Tandy walked in, dressed in a demure blue dress that accentuated her eyes. Lamar looked over and smiled. "Well, good morning, Tandy," he said pleasantly. "I was just reminding your sister that she needs to get dressed for church."

Tandy raised an eyebrow and Rayna shrugged. "And I was just telling Daddy I don't feel like going today," she said.

Tandy walked around the table and sat next to her. "But _I_ want you to go," she said. "I haven't seen you all week and I want you to go with us." When Rayna looked at her, she saw a pleading look in her eyes.

She took a bite of her toast and chewed slowly, then swallowed. Finally she sighed and threw down the rest of the toast on her plate and got up from the table. She walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. Tandy followed her, slipping in the bedroom before Rayna could slam the door. She swung around. "Why did you do that?" she hissed.

Tandy put her hands out. "I really did want to see you, Rayna. Why don't you want to go?"

Rayna stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. She breathed in and then out. "I had a date last night. And Daddy didn't approve. So now he's punishing me."

Tandy gasped. "A date? With who?"

"Deacon."

Tandy frowned. "Deacon?"

Rayna rolled her eyes. "Deacon. The guy I met at the Bluebird. You remember him."

"Oh, right." Tandy bit her lip. "Well, I'm not surprised Daddy didn't approve."

"What? Because he's not 'our kind'? Not you too, Tandy." Rayna stomped off to her closet, angrily sliding dresses down the closet rod, not really seeing anything.

"What do you mean by that?" Tandy was standing at the closet door.

Rayna looked at her and scowled. "You know. Daddy thinks we can't date anyone other than Belle Meade boys. Like we can't make up our own minds."

"He just wants the best for you, Rayna."

"Stop it." Rayna pointed at her. "Stop it or I won't come."

Tandy held up her hands in surrender. "It's not my fight." She made a shooing gesture. "Go on now. Find something pretty to wear." Rayna rolled her eyes and her sister laughed.

* * *

Rayna squinted as they walked out of the church into the sunlight. She and Tandy had to endure Lamar's glad handing as they slowly walked down the walkway towards the parking lot. They had to smile and nod as their father reminded all the other important Belle Meade people who his daughters were. As much as Rayna didn't really want to go to lunch at the country club, it was a hot summer day and she wanted to get into the air conditioning. She linked her arm through Tandy's and they picked up the pace, heading on towards the parking lot ahead of their father.

"Can I come stay with you this weekend?" she asked Tandy. Rayna loved the fact that their father had allowed Tandy to stay in her apartment near Vanderbilt all summer.

Tandy gave her a sly smile. "Why?"

Rayna shrugged and gave her sister her own sly smile. "Just in case I have a date," she said.

"Will he pick you up?"

"Of course. He's nice and sweet and gentlemanly. You'll see." Tandy raised her eyebrows and Rayna just smiled.

* * *

After they ordered lunch, and handed off their menus, Rayna sat back in her chair, looking around the dining room. She always felt out of place at the country club. It was stiff and formal, appropriate attire only. As out of place as she felt at school, she felt even more so within these ornate walls. The décor was over-the-top, gilded chandeliers, stiff white tablecloths and napkins on the tables. There was a hushed sound of conversation amongst the wealthy movers and shakers of Nashville. It was still a big deal to belong to the country club and Lamar always had reminded them what a privilege it was for them to have this kind of access. Not simply to the elegant interiors and vast grounds, but access to the right kind of people. _These are our people_ , he would say.

 _Not my people. These are_ _not_ _my people._

"Rayna?" She turned and looked at her father. He nodded across the room. "You want a nice young man to date, there's one for you."

She followed his gaze, letting it pass by his friends and business associates, landing on a younger man she didn't know. "Who, Daddy?" she said, looking back at him with disinterested eyes.

"Theodore Conrad. I think he goes by Teddy." Lamar smiled. "John and Rebecca Conrad's son."

She frowned. "Are you serious?" She shook her head. "You're gonna try to fix me up with some country club stiff?"

He reached out and patted her hand. "Now, don't do that, Rayna," he said, his face pleasant but his eyes steely with irritation. "Even though his family's a little down on their luck right now, they're still old Belle Meade stock. And Teddy's a smart young executive down at the bank."

"Daddy!" Tandy exclaimed. "That's ridiculous. Teddy Conrad's older than me. I'm very certain he wouldn't be interested in dating a high school girl." She looked at Rayna. "No disrespect intended."

Rayna grinned. "None taken." There was no way on God's green earth she would entertain dating someone from this world. The server came to their table and set their salads in front of them. After he left, Rayna picked up her fork, then looked at her father. "I'm not looking for my daddy to fix me up with a boyfriend. And even if I was, I wouldn't pick someone from here." She started on her salad, wanting to get through lunch as quickly as possible so they could get out of there.

 _ **####**_

As Deacon drove down the street that led out of Belle Meade, he thought about two things. His date with Rayna and what happened at the end. He wasn't surprised at the reaction of Rayna's father. He knew he was out of his league in the wealthy part of town. But Rayna never made him feel like he was less than her, even though he knew he wasn't as smart or well-dressed or well-spoken as someone she might meet there. He could tell Rayna's father was trying to be intimidating, all gruff and cold and controlling. He supposed that some boys who wanted to date Rayna would be intimidated by that, but then he wasn't one of them.

Considering how he'd grown up, he wasn't particularly scared of Lamar Wyatt. He'd grown up with a father who drank too much and beat up his family. He knew real fear. Rayna's father's words didn't bother him. He did wonder if her father would keep her from seeing him, but he also knew enough about Rayna now that he was pretty sure she would do what she wanted.

He couldn't help but smile a little as he thought about her sassing back her father. He had no doubt she would. Which then led him to think about the date. He had loved watching the excitement and wonder on her face as she'd listened to the music at the Station Inn. She clearly had an ear for music and a love for it. He'd put his arm around her as they sat and listened and she would look over at him and smile. He knew she was young and that he would need to be careful with her. He also knew already that she was worth it.

When he got home, he went immediately to his bedroom and got his guitar and the notebook he used to write down lyrics and music. He flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for, about halfway through the notebook. It was the song that Rayna had inspired, as he'd sat and watched her on stage that first night he'd seen her at the Bluebird. He sat at the little kitchen table, with his guitar, and began to play the song again, seeing Rayna in his mind as he did.

 _Sittin' here tonight / By the fire light / It reminds me I already have more than I should /_ _I don't need fame / No one to know my name / At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good._ He imagined her face when he finally sang it to her, hoping it would mean as much to her as it did to him. _Two arms around me / Heaven to ground me / And a family that always calls me home / Four wheels to get there / Enough love to share / And a sweet, sweet, sweet song / At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good._ He sat back and looked at it the words on the paper. He didn't want to scare her off, but somehow he didn't really think it would.

He thought about her, standing on the stage singing, the way he'd seen her that very first night. It made him think, then, about playing guitar for her, like he'd said. He'd surprised himself a little when he'd offered, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He knew he'd told Watty he wasn't interested in being a backup for anyone, but he realized he wanted to do it for Rayna. He really did want them to do this together.

He sat back and finished the song _. Sometimes I'm hard on me / When dreams don't come easy / I wanna look back and say / I did all that I could / Yeah at the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good._ After he'd played it all through, he smiled to himself, satisfied with how it had turned out. He couldn't wait to find the right time to share it with Rayna.

* * *

After he got off his shift the next day at the diner, he settled into one of the back booths with a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. He was about halfway through when Stewart slid into the booth opposite him. He had a plate of pancakes, but he reached across the table and snatched one of the pieces of bacon off Deacon's plate. "This looks tasty," Stewart said, biting off half the bacon strip. "Actually _really_ good," he said as he chewed.

Deacon frowned. "Get your own damn bacon, Stewart." He pulled his plate a little closer.

Stewart pointed at him with his fork. "So there's a showcase down at Shotgun Sally's on Thursday. You in?"

Deacon nodded. "Sure." He shoveled some eggs in his mouth. "Can I bring someone?" he asked.

Stewart's eyebrows shot up. "Who?"

Deacon cleared his throat. "Uh, Rayna."

"Seriously? You left with her the other night, didn't you?" Deacon nodded. "Was she good?"

Deacon frowned. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Stewart shoved pancakes in his mouth and shook his head. He chewed and swallowed. "Hey, man, I didn't mean nothing by it. I just thought…."

Deacon was still frowning. "You know she's sixteen, right?" he asked.

"Well, no, I didn't know that. Damn, Deke, isn't she a little young for you?"

"Shut up, Stewart." Deacon was done with his breakfast, so he slid out of the booth, taking his plate and silverware with him. "I'll see you Thursday."

* * *

As he drove home, he thought about whether he would hear from Rayna and when. Her father did seem kind of upset with her, so he hoped she didn't get grounded or anything. He really did want to see her again.

 _ **####**_

Rayna waited until what she thought was a decent hour and went into her father's study. She picked up the phone and called Deacon's number, hoping he was home. After four rings he picked up. "Hello?" he said.

She couldn't help but smile when she heard his voice. "Hey, Deacon, it's Rayna," she said, feeling herself blush a little.

"Hey, Rayna." She couldn't help it. She listened closely to the tone of his voice and it lifted her heart to hear him sound happy to hear from her.

She felt a little shy. "Hey. So, how are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Good." She felt tongue-tied, something that wasn't like her.

"Um, you wanna meet at the park today?"

She felt a little thrill run through her. _He still wants to see me!_ "Sure. You don't have to work?"

"Nah. Not today."

She bit down on her lip. "Uh, what if I brought lunch? Like a picnic or something?"

"I'd like that."

"So like about one?"

She could hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah. It's a date."

When she hung up the phone, she felt warm all over. _It's a date._ She wrapped her arms around herself. _I'm dating Deacon Claybourne!_ She felt a thrill run through her. She couldn't wait to see him.

* * *

He was already there when she pulled into the parking lot at the park. She gathered up the lunch she had made and walked over to where he sat. He looked up as she approached and smiled, setting down his guitar and jumping off the table. "Hey," she said, feeling a little shy.

"Hey." He took the bag from her and set it on the table. Then he turned back to her and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over it. She felt a little shiver run down her spine as she felt his calloused fingers against her skin. He looked a little nervous, but then he stepped towards her and leaned in to kiss her. She put her other hand on his arm and returned the kiss, letting her lips part enough that he could slide his tongue in her mouth. Then, as though they both realized they were standing in a public place, they stepped back from each other. He grinned a little sheepishly. "I'm glad you could come," he said.

"Me too." She glanced over at the bag. "I brought sandwiches. I made them myself."

"You did?"

She nodded. "Ham and cheese. Oh. I hope you like that."

"Ham and cheese is great." They sat on the table and she pulled out the sandwiches, handing one to him and putting the other on her lap. Then she pulled out cans of diet Coke she'd bought just before she'd gotten to the park.

"I hope diet Coke is okay," she said.

He popped the top and took a swallow. "Perfect." Then he unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. She watched as he chewed it and then swallowed. "This is great, Rayna," he said.

She smiled. "I'm glad you like it." She unwrapped hers then and took a bite. She wondered if they'd ever stop acting so weird with each other.

He looked at her. "I'm glad you called, but we gotta figure something else out," he said. "Maybe you give me your number?"

She wasn't sure that was a good idea. "Maybe you get an answering machine?"

He shrugged. "I could, but I'd still need your number."

He was right. "I'll give it to you, but if my daddy answers, you hang up."

He frowned. "I ain't afraid of him, Rayna. I been around a whole lot worse."

She considered that. "Still, I don't think he'd even tell me you called."

He shrugged again. "Okay." He ate another bite of the sandwich. "You free on Thursday night?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"There's one of them showcases down at Shotgun Sally's again. Thought we could go."

"I'd like that."

"And I'll be your lead guitar, how 'bout that?"

She smiled. "Really? You'd do that for me?" He nodded. "Thanks."

He picked up his guitar then, settling it on his lap. "You written any new songs lately?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. I'm just so stuck. You said you've written a lot. How do you do it?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I ain't saying they're all good, you know." He looked down and let his fingers graze the guitar strings. "Write your truth. That's all it is."

 _ **####**_

She looked at him a little quizzically. "You make it sound too simple."

He smiled. "It don't have to be that hard." He let his fingers run over the strings again. "What I do is write down everything that comes into my head. If I dream about something, I write it down, no matter what. You don't never know what's gonna turn into a song." He smiled. "Tell me something that makes you happy."

She bit her lip. "Music."

"More than that."

He watched her as she folded her hands in her lap, her knees tight together, her back straight as she thought. "There's this place my mom used to take Tandy and me. Along the river. It was quiet and peaceful. Just a big piece of land."

"What did you like about it?"

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "I don't know. Maybe that I felt free. No burdens, no outside world."

"Do you still go out there?" She shook her head. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I guess because she's gone." She looked at him and he thought he saw the hint of tears in her eyes. "It's not the same somehow." She sighed.

"Why don't you write about that? The being free part?"

She shrugged. "I never thought about that. Maybe I could." She had a wistful look on her face as she stared off into the distance.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. "What do you think you might wanna play at Shotgun Sally's?" he asked.

She screwed up her face. "How many do you do? Still three or four?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"Well, maybe I do those two I did at the Bluebird plus a cover or two."

"What about that one you were working on?"

She frowned. "What?"

He smiled encouragingly. "You know, the one about being in love."

She blushed. "Oh, I don't know. That seems so, you know, personal. And private. Plus it's not really finished."

"You ain't gonna share it? That's what you write for, Rayna."

She looked at him. "Do you perform all your songs?" She sounded a little like she was challenging him.

"Well, yeah." He smirked. "Long as they're finished." He leaned a little towards her. "It's a pretty song, Rayna. I think people will like it. You should try to finish it."

She sighed. "Maybe." She looked thoughtful, then she smiled shyly at him. "What's something you'll do Thursday night?"

"Oh, I don't know." Truth was, he'd written lots of songs about the things he was searching for, like the song he'd written for her. But he'd also written a lot of dark songs, about demons and pain and darkness. It was what he'd grown up with. It was the kind of thing he normally played. "Here's something I wrote that me and my sister did." He played the opening chords before he launched in. _Trouble loves you like a thief / Trouble fills a certain need / Tangles up the truth / Baby you're the proof / Trouble is a friend that never sleeps_. He stopped and looked at her.

"Wow," she said. "That's, um…."

He nodded. "Kinda dark. I know." He breathed in. "Rayna, I told you before. I had kind of a bad life before I came here. Not a lot was good. You should know that about me."

"You didn't have anything good in your life?"

 _I didn't, but now there's you,_ he wanted to say. But he didn't. He needed to be sure first.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: I'm sorry it's taken so long to post a new chapter. And no, I haven't forgotten this story! Work has just been all-consuming and hasn't left a lot of time for writing. But please know I'm committed to finishing this, even if it does take a little longer than I'd like. Thanks so much for the reviews!_

Even to her untrained ear, she could hear the pain in his music. She thought about what he'd said about singing her truth, but she'd never lived the kind of life that would create that kind of music. Of course, when her mother died, it was shocking and heart wrenching and, even now, she felt the loss. Everything she'd experienced since she was twelve had made her stop and wonder how her mother might have helped her through it. Especially now, as she was trying to stand up for herself and live the life she believed she was meant to live.

He stopped and looked at her and she could see something there she hadn't seen before. "Wow," she said. "That's, um…."

He nodded. "Kinda dark. I know." He breathed in. "Rayna, I told you before. I had kind of a bad life before I came here. Not a lot was good. You should know that about me."

"You didn't have _anything_ good in your life?" She just couldn't imagine it.

He gave her a quick smile. "It wasn't all bad. There's always some light in the darkness. But it was a hard life. It was why I needed to leave, come here, try to make my way."

She nodded. "So what's your dream, Deacon?" she asked. "What did you want when you came to Nashville?"

"Well, me and Bev, we were gonna be a duo, but then she decided to go home. So now, I guess I wanna be a solo artist, travel all over the country. Write songs and sing 'em on stage in big arenas." He looked off in the distance. "One day I wanna be the headliner." He looked back at her. "So, kinda the same thing as you."

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess so. Except maybe I'm not writing as many songs." She made a face. "Since I have so much trouble with it."

He shook his head. "Just keep working at it." He shrugged. "Or you could write with someone." He ran his fingers over the guitar strings. "I could help you with the song you wanna finish, if you want?"

"Really?"

He nodded. "Only if you want." He started to pick out a melody on his guitar. "You wanna practice?" She nodded and smiled.

* * *

They walked slowly towards the parking lot. She really didn't want the afternoon to end. She loved watching his fingers on the guitar, listening to his voice, looking into his eyes. As they approached the lot, he jerked his head towards his truck. "Wanna sit in my truck before you go? Talk some?"

She wondered if he really wanted to talk. She nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I'd like to do that." He smiled back at her and reached for her hand.

 _ **####**_

His heart was beating wildly as they walked to his truck. He really wanted to kiss her. He didn't think she'd mind though. When they reached the truck, he opened the passenger door for her and then, after she'd climbed in, closed the door behind her. He hustled around to the driver's side and put his guitar in the truck bed, then climbed into the truck. When he looked over at her, she seemed tense, he thought, sitting very straight, her hands in her lap, biting down on her lip.

"You change your mind?" he asked, feeling hesitant.

She shook her head. "No. Why?"

"Um, you just look, I don't know, maybe a little scared."

She smiled then and visibly seemed to relax. "No, I'm not scared," she said. She looked down then back at him, her cheeks a little pink. "I just thought maybe you wanted to kiss me, or something."

He grinned. _Damn, this girl is something else._ He slid a little closer to her. "Actually, I do," he said. "Want to kiss you, I mean." She just smiled, so he reached out and put his hand on her waist, pulling her closer. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist. She lifted her arms and put them around his neck and sighed, opening her mouth to his.

He slid in his tongue, letting it find hers, gliding against it, feeling the roughness. She let her fingers thread the hair at the back of his neck and he kissed her hungrily, feeling like the world around them had ceased to exist. She had the sweetest mouth, warm and comforting, and he sank deeper into the kiss. He moved his hands to the side of her waist and rubbed them up and down as the kiss grew more insistent. He slid one hand up and let his thumb trace the swell of her breast until it rested right where her nipple was.

Suddenly she pulled away with a gasp, her hands moving to her chest, and he could see she was breathing hard. Her eyes were wide with confusion and he was afraid he'd scared her after all. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked.

At first she breathed in and out, her eyes still wide with surprise. "You…touched me," she finally said, her voice a whisper.

He sucked his breath in. He didn't want to scare her off. He'd forgotten she was sixteen, that she had told him she'd never had a boyfriend. He'd been lost in the kiss and he'd forgotten it all. "I'm…I'm sorry, Rayna," he said. "I…I didn't mean to do nothing like that, I promise. I won't do that again. Don't be mad."

She was still breathing in and out, but she lowered her hands. Then she reached out and touched his knee. "I'm not mad," she said. "I guess I just, I don't know, you know, I haven't, well, you know." She sighed and then she smiled, a little tentatively. "I think I liked it."

He let a smile play on his lips. "You think?" he asked, feeling a bit of relief.

She really did blush then. "I _know_ ," she said quietly.

 _ **####**_

She couldn't stop smiling on her way home. The kissing had been amazing. She loved kissing Deacon, that she knew for sure. What she hadn't expected was the way he had touched her. She didn't think he'd planned it, thought it was just one of those heat of the moment things, like she read about in her romance novels. She'd certainly read about how the leading man would cup the heroine's breast, how he would let his fingers touch the skin there, tease the nipple, and then the heroine would always gasp with pleasure, kind of like she did.

It had been a surprise, but after she thought about it, she realized she had liked it. He wasn't touching her skin, of course, and she didn't think she was quite ready for that yet, but when he had touched the place where her nipple was covered by her bra, she had felt a zinger that had shot down from her breast all the way to the place between her legs, and it had felt like molten lava. He had kissed her some more, but he hadn't done _that_ again. He was too much of a gentleman, she thought. Well, and they were sort of in a public place where people could see. She wasn't sure she thought it would be good for them to do that in public.

It had been such a great afternoon and she couldn't wait for Thursday.

* * *

She glanced over at the clock beside her bed. Deacon would be there in less than fifteen minutes and she still hadn't settled on an outfit to wear. She had finally decided on a denim miniskirt, but couldn't decide what top to wear. She had tried on, and discarded, a gingham print blouse, a peasant blouse, three different t-shirts, and a tank top. Nothing felt right. Or it was something Deacon had already seen. She stomped her feet and made an angry noise, then stalked back into her closet.

She crossed her arms over her waist as she stared at the blouses in her closet. Finally she turned to the other side, where her dresses were, and started picking through them. She knew she needed to hurry and finally she just grabbed a dark paisley dress, with a deeply cut neckline – one her father made her change out of if he ever saw her wear it – and an empire waistline. The sleeves were tight at the top and loose, like a poet's blouse, at the bottom. She knew it looked good on her.

She quickly unzipped the skirt and shimmied it off, stepping out of it and then slid the dress on. She ran out to her full-length mirror and smoothed the dress down around her hips, straightening the neckline and fluffing out the sleeves. She reached for a necklace that nestled perfectly against her chest, just above her cleavage. Then she went back to her closet and pulled out a pair of boots. She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled them on, then jumped up, grabbed her purse, and skipped down the hallway and the stairs to the foyer, just as a knock came at the front door.

When she opened the door, Deacon stood there. He had on a striped shirt, tucked into his jeans, with the top two buttons open and the sleeves rolled up. A slow smile crossed his face when he saw her and she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he answered. She could see him swallow. "You ready?" She nodded and walked out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. As she walked beside him down the steps, he turned and looked at her appreciatively. "You look pretty."

She smiled. "Thanks. You look handsome."

He bit his lower lip. She could tell he probably wasn't used to compliments. "Let's go then," he said, opening the door of the truck and helping her in.

She straightened her dress around her and picked at her hair, then folded her hands in her lap, as Deacon hurried around and got in on the other side. He put the key in the ignition and then looked over at her. "I'm looking forward to tonight," she said.

"Me too." He reached for her hand. "You're gonna be great, Ray."

She looked over at him sharply. "What did you call me?"

"Oh, sorry. Rayna."

She bit her lip and then smiled. "It's okay. I kind of like it," she said. "Ray." She rolled it around in her head. It was like a pet name. She thought it probably meant something, that he did that. She nodded. "I _do_ like it." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I've never had a nickname."

He smiled. "Well, now you do." Then he turned the key and they headed out to the street.

 _ **####**_

He watched Rayna from across the room. She was talking to Stewart and Vince, her hands flying around animatedly. She looked beautiful, in that dress that hugged her figure and showed off her cleavage. But that also worried him a little and made him feel protective. He'd seen several guys at Shotgun Sally's look her up and down, then settle on her breasts. His inclination was to punch them, but he tried to stay in control of his emotions. He just didn't want anyone to hurt her.

She turned then and looked around the room, her eyes finally settling on him. She smiled, that dazzling smile she had, and he felt a warmth fill him up. He smiled back and she hurried over to him. "This is going to be so much fun," she cried, linking her arm through his and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Then he saw a little blush on her cheeks. "I'm so glad you're going to be on stage with me, Deacon. I feel so much better when you're there."

"Did you decide, finally, what you're doing?"

She nodded. "I want to do 'Back Again'. The one you helped me with. And then 'Cumberland Girl', that one you know. And that Judd's song." She bit her lip. "Do you remember 'Back Again'?"

He smiled. "I do. This gonna be the first time you sing it on stage?"

"Yes. I'm nervous though."

"It's a good song, Ray."

She smiled. "But it's a ballad." She bit her lip again. "Maybe people won't like it."

He shook his head. "People will like anything you sing, Rayna."

She lifted her shoulders and then sighed, dropping them again. "I really appreciate you doing this with me, Deacon. I know you have your own set and that's what you should be concentrating on…."

"Rayna, I wouldn't do it 'less I wanted to. I'm glad to help you out." He couldn't help but think back to Watty's comments about him teaming up with Rayna. It surprised him, somehow, to realize that he kind of liked the idea of doing it, maybe even on a regular basis. "I'll be your guitar player any time you need me."

She looked so happy then that he thought he would probably do anything for her, anything to see that smile. "You're so sweet," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I know it's not your dream, but you're helping me with mine." And then he knew for sure. He'd do _anything_ for her, anything to stay close to her.

* * *

He walked up on stage with her, sliding his guitar over his shoulder. She turned her back to the crowd and looked at him, her eyes wide and her hands clasped in front of her. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded mutely. He waited, but she still just stood there, looking at him. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was okay, but then she whispered, "I'm good." She turned around then and took the microphone off the stand. She glanced over her shoulder at him with a smile and then he started the opening chords for her song.

 _I had that dream late last night  
I was yours and you were mine  
Watched you fade into the morning light, again_

 _And I don't mean to change your mind_  
 _We've had this talk a hundred times_  
 _It's raining like a river down my eyes_  
 _And I don't want to talk about_  
 _How our hearts are doing now_  
 _God knows the both of us have tried_  
 _We were so in love, just a couple kids_  
 _It's a long way back, again_

 _A few left turns_  
 _And honey we got lost_  
 _But I still kept my fingers crossed_  
 _Wish I could take a train_  
 _Back to us, again_

 _And I don't mean to change your mind_  
 _We've had this talk a hundred times_  
 _It's raining like a river down my eyes_  
 _And I don't want to talk about_  
 _How our hearts are doing now_  
 _God knows the both of us have tried_

 _We were so in love, just a couple kids  
It's a long way back, again_

 _If only you and I would just_  
 _Forget the world a while_  
 _It'd be so easy_  
 _If only years and sparks would just_  
 _Surrender to our hearts_  
 _You'd be right with me_  
 _Cause I still carry you with me_

 _And I don't mean to change your mind_  
 _We've had this talk a hundred times_  
 _It's raining like a river down my eyes_  
 _And I don't want to talk about_  
 _How our hearts are doing now_  
 _God knows the both of us have tried_  
 _We were so in love, just a couple kids_  
 _It's a long way back, again_

He didn't remember all the words, but it turned out okay. He stepped in with the right amount of harmony and before long, he was just watching her as she played to the audience. She was a natural. He knew – she was going to be a star one day. He didn't know how long it would take or everything she might have to go through to get there, but she would make it. And he wanted to be right there with her when she did.

 _ **####**_

She was still tingling all over from her short set. It felt like every time she stepped onto a stage, she was more and more comfortable, more and more sure of herself. It was so easy to get all into herself when she was in front of an audience, wondering how they would react, if they would like what she sang, if they liked how she looked. She'd find herself focusing more on that than the music and then, when she stepped off the stage, she could hardly remember how it felt, just doing what she loved.

This time, though, she'd made herself focus on the joy of it. Maybe it was partly because Deacon was there, and took the pressure off by playing guitar for her, but knowing he was there supporting her had seemed to free her to just enjoy the moment. She found herself looking back at him occasionally, waiting for his encouraging smile. She would walk over to him, leaning in with her shoulder and turning her head to him as she sang. It had all felt so natural and perfect. When her set was over, he had swung his guitar behind him and put his arms around her, holding her tight.

 _You were amazing, Ray,_ he'd whispered in her ear. She felt the tingle again, all the way down to her toes. She had had tears in her eyes as she felt the warmth of his body close to her own. She had almost said _I love you_ and had had to bite down on her tongue to stop the words. But that was how she felt. And when she had walked off the stage, she'd felt like she was walking on clouds, that warm, happy feeling enveloping her like a blanket.

Now he was on stage by himself, after doing a set with Stewart and Vince. Her heart started beating hard as she watched him. He was wearing a flannel shirt, something she would never have worn in the middle of a hot Tennessee summer, but when she had felt it, it had felt thin and worn, and it had made her heart ache, to think that he was living on a shoestring while she lived in that ridiculous mansion in Belle Meade. He looked sexy though, like the leading men in her romance novels looked to her in her minds' eye. His hair was falling onto his forehead just a little and, from where she sat, his eyes were smoldering. She watched his fingers on the guitar strings and thought about how they felt against her skin, wondered how they might feel on her breasts. She felt that tingle again, right in her nipples, and she found herself feeling grateful for the darkness inside the venue, because she knew they were hard. She pulled up on her neckline just a bit.

She couldn't take her eyes off him and, as she watched him, she imagined that he was looking at her the whole time. She was sure that wasn't true, but she liked thinking it. His voice was like smoky caramel, not that she'd ever had smoky caramel, but it sounded like what she thought that might taste like. Deep, rich, smooth with a touch of huskiness to it here and there. The songs he performed were magical and she decided she would ask him to perform everything he'd written for her someday.

When he was done, she jumped to her feet, like everyone else, and applauded excitedly. She was bouncing on her toes as she watched a humble smile cross his face as he acknowledged the crowd. It made her wonder if he hadn't heard much positive reinforcement, growing up the way he had. She breathed in and then sighed, thinking she understood. Her father wasn't good at praise, at least not for her, and she'd felt a little like she was alone on an island, ever since her mom had died.

She felt a lump in her throat and the hint of tears in her eyes and she took several deep breaths, not wanting to spoil this night with tears and regrets. She looked up and saw Deacon winding his way through the crowd, seeming to be looking right at her. And then he was right there in front of her, a big smile on his face, his skin glistening just a touch with perspiration from the lights. Again he swung his guitar behind him and wrapped an arm around her, leaning down to kiss her. She put her hands on his waist and opened her mouth to his, letting his tongue sweep through and tangle with her own.

When he finally pulled away, he looked at her, smiling again. "Let's go," he said, his voice hoarse. She picked up her purse and put her arm around his waist, letting him lead her out to the parking lot.

* * *

They got on the freeway and he was driving just a little fast, but she didn't care. The windows were down and the wind was blowing her hair around and she finally captured it with one hand, holding it in a makeshift side ponytail. She laughed. "That was so much fun!" she cried.

He looked over at her and smiled. "It was, wasn't it? And you were just so awesome, Ray. I mean, you're gonna be a star before long. I just know it. You killed it out there."

She could feel herself blush. "Well, I don't know about _that_ , but thank you." She smiled back at him. "I'm staying with my sister this weekend," she said. "She lives in an apartment by Vandy. I was thinking, maybe, um, that we could get together." She bit her lip.

He looked at her again and grinned. "You asking me out on a date, Rayna Jaymes?" he asked, amusement on his face and in his voice.

She laughed. "Yes, I guess I am. You okay with that?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I absolutely am okay with that. And with going on a date. Saturday?"

She nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'll give you Tandy's address."

 _ **####**_

Tandy sat on her bed and watched as Rayna went through the clothes she'd brought with her, trying to decide what to wear. "Babe, I loved that blue blouse you had on a minute ago," she said to her sister, who was now trying on another blouse.

Rayna turned around and glared at Tandy. "He's already seen that."

Tandy had to fight rolling her eyes. "Then why did you bring it?" she asked.

Rayna sighed, sounding irritated, throwing her hands out to the side. "I don't know," she whined. "I'm such an idiot. I have no idea how to date." She sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

"That's ridiculous, babe. You do so know how to date. You've been out with him before, right?"

Rayna looked glum. "Yes."

"And it went well, right?"

Rayna rolled her eyes. "I guess."

Tandy scooted over and took her sister's hand. "Don't worry so much. He likes you. He won't notice you wearing the blue blouse again. I promise. He probably won't even be looking at the blouse at all."

Rayna sighed. Then, suddenly, she jumped up and ran into Tandy's closet. "Can I wear this?" Tandy heard her say from inside the closet. She waited until Rayna came running out, holding a hangar with a white poet's blouse.

Tandy peered at it closely. She'd forgotten it was even back there. "If it fits, you can wear it," she said, with a little smile. She had not been as fortunate as her sister in the boob department. Rayna had developed early and had lush, full breasts, while Tandy's were small and perky, if not so full.

Rayna shrugged out of the blue blouse and slid on the white one. Then she turned to face Tandy. "What do you think?" she asked, a smile on her face.

Tandy thought it looked just a touch snug in the bust, but it definitely showed off her cleavage to nice advantage. "You look gorgeous," she said, because it was true. Rayna's red-gold curls were skimming her shoulders and the white really highlighted her sun-kissed skin. Another thing she had over Tandy – Tandy's skin burned easily so she had to stay pale year round. Rayna's skin tanned, although that also showed off her freckles more prominently.

"So I can wear it?"

Tandy nodded and laughed. "You can wear it." She watched as her sister pulled her boots on and then slid her jeans down over them. She added a gold dragonfly necklace along with large gold hoop earrings. She had applied her makeup with a deft touch, looking youthful and glowing instead of overly made up. When she turned back around and posed for Tandy, she knew Deacon would be appreciative.

She followed Rayna out to the living room and sat on the couch, waiting for Deacon to arrive. As she watched her sister flit around the room with nervous energy, Tandy couldn't help but think about the young man who was taking her sister out. She still wasn't sure about him. Rayna hadn't told her much, just that he was from Mississippi and that he'd come to Nashville when he was seventeen. He didn't seem to be as well-educated as her sister, but she did have to admit he played guitar beautifully and sang surprisingly nuanced songs for a nineteen year old. She worried that it meant he'd had more life experience than Rayna could really handle. After all, her sister was still in high school and still pretty naïve about boys and dating and all of that. She worried that Deacon could, and would, take advantage of her.

When Deacon arrived to pick Rayna up, Tandy made sure to be at the door. Rayna looked annoyed and sighed. "Deacon, this is my sister, Tandy Wyatt," she said, as she clung to her date's arm, obviously anxious to be on their way.

Deacon nodded solicitously. "Nice to meet you, Miss Wyatt." She noticed he was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. While they looked clean, they also looked a little worn, like he'd had them for a long time.

Tandy waved her hand. "Oh, you can call me Tandy." She could see Rayna's irritation growing, but she didn't care. "So where are you taking my sister tonight?"

Deacon looked a little surprised, but he recovered well. "Um, I was gonna take her to hear some music at Five Spot, then maybe grab a bite to eat. I'll have her home on time."

"Five Spot? That's East Nashville, right?"

"Uh, yes ma'am, I mean, yes."

She smiled a little. "Be careful then. And have a good time."

Rayna looked relieved. She tugged on Deacon's arm. "Okay, so we'll see you later," she said, pulling Deacon down the walkway to the stairs.

Tandy stayed at the open door until she saw them walk into the parking lot. She saw them get into an old, beat up truck, and she sighed. He might be a nice looking young man, but he was certainly not good enough for her sister. And Rayna knew very little about him, really. It really made her nervous. She was definitely worried that Rayna might be in over her head.

* * *

Rayna had been gone about a half hour and Tandy herself was getting ready to go out with some friends. Just before she walked out the door, she stopped, then turned back and walked into her bedroom, where she picked up her phone. She dialed the number and waited.

"Hey, Daddy. How are you?" She listened for a moment as he told her about some deal he was working on. He was very anxious for her to join him in the family business and, now that she was in business school, he had started talking with her about his deals, educating her in the world of real estate development and commercial projects. "We'll have to talk about that some more, maybe tomorrow night. I really was calling because I thought maybe you had someone who could get some information on the guy Rayna's been taking guitar lessons from." She listened again. "All I'm saying is that maybe before she makes a big mistake, you could have, I don't know, maybe Albert do some digging. Just to make sure there's nothing she needs to be worried about." She listened and sighed. "Daddy, I don't think it's anything to be concerned with right now, but this is the right time to check him out." She listened. "Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye, Daddy."

She hung up the phone and, for a moment, wondered if she'd done the right thing. But she reminded herself that Rayna was young and unsophisticated. She'd been sheltered from the day she was born and, especially since their mom had died, Lamar had kept it that way. Rayna hadn't had much experience with boys and now this one was in her life and Tandy couldn't help but worry. Her antenna was up. Something felt different this time and she owed it to their mom to keep Rayna safe.


	18. Chapter 18

As they drove across town, he looked over at her. "This ain't like the Bluebird or Shotgun Sally's," he said.

She smiled. "Well, those places aren't at all alike either, so I think I'm okay," she said.

"Well, I mean, it ain't country music. Not tonight anyway. You okay with that?"

She laughed. "I _do_ like other music. It'll be fun."

He was quiet for a minute, then he looked back at her. "I'm not sure your sister liked me, really," he said.

She frowned. "Why would you think that? Why wouldn't she like you?"

He shrugged. "I guess she just looked a little bit like she thought maybe I wasn't, I don't know, maybe not good enough." He bit down on his lip.

She looked out the front window. "Well, I think that's ridiculous. And it's not up to her to decide anyway. All that matters is that I do." She looked at him. "Like you, I mean."

He gave her a quick smile and reached for her hand, squeezing it. "I'm glad. I like you too." He thought she looked so pretty then. And _young_. He'd want to lift her up in his arms and carry her off somewhere, make sweet love to her, and then he'd remember she was sixteen. Almost seventeen, she would tell him, her birthday in September, but he would never take advantage of her.

She looked at him. "How close will we be to where you live?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not that far."

She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders a bit. "Will you show me?"

"Um, I guess we could drive by. It's just an apartment."

She shook her head. "No, I meant could you take me to see it? I mean, you've seen where I live."

He swallowed hard. "I don't know, Rayna. I mean, it's just a studio apartment. Probably not even that clean, really."

She gave him a shy smile. "I don't care."

"Maybe," he said, not sure at all that it would be a good idea. She reached back over then and took his hand and they were mostly quiet the rest of the drive.

* * *

They ended up eating at the Five Spot, instead of going somewhere afterwards. The music was good, loud and energizing. He loved watching how much fun she had. She'd told him she didn't have a lot of friends and it made him wonder if she went to parties or hung out with anyone or if she just stayed home in that big house and listened to music. As he led her out to his truck, he couldn't decide if he was hoping she'd forget about going by his apartment or that she wouldn't. Turned out she didn't.

When he walked her around to the passenger side of the truck, she pulled him into an embrace and looked up at him with a teasing smile on her face. "You gonna show off your place?" she asked.

"Uh, I wasn't expecting company, so I don't think it's real neat." He was sure the bed was unmade and there might be dirty glasses and dishes on the counter and in the sink. There would be no clean towels and the sofa was kind of worn.

"I don't care," she said. "I just want to see it. We don't have to stay long." He hesitated. "Please?" she asked, a hopeful look on her face.

He breathed in and then shrugged. "Okay, I guess." She clasped her hands together gleefully, bouncing on her toes. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

 _ **####**_

The neighborhood Deacon lived in was a mix of commercial and apartment buildings and small little rundown bungalows. She'd heard about East Nashville, but had never really been there. Because it was dark, she couldn't really see much more than the outlines of the houses and buildings, but the lights in the windows of the houses looked comforting and safe. Homey. Not at all like Belle Meade, with its stately mansions and long, winding driveways.

Deacon turned into a parking lot. Only one street light was lit but she could see that it was a pretty plain, brick apartment building, three stories tall. There were lights on here and there, but it mostly just looked dark. There were a few cars in the parking lot, most of them old and banged up. It was clearly a place where those who didn't have a lot of money to spend might live.

Deacon turned off the car and the lights but didn't make a move to get out. She looked over at him. "Are you going to take me in?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and then looked back at her. "It's probably a mess," he said. "Maybe I should just take you back."

She opened the truck door then and moved to get out. He reached for her arm and she looked at him. "Don't be silly. You've seen where I live. It's only fair."

He sighed and let go of her arm. "Okay, then," he said. He pulled the keys out and opened his own door. She scrambled out and shut the door, before he could change his mind, hurrying around the front of the truck to wait. He shook his head, a little smile on his face, as he walked up to her and then took her hand.

* * *

His apartment was on the second floor. She waited while he unlocked and then opened the door. He stood back and let her walk into the dark apartment. He stepped in and turned on the light. She looked around, hearing him slowly close the door behind them. She hadn't really known what to expect. The main room was tiny, but maybe it was because of the small kitchen being right next to the living room area. He had an old couch that looked like something he might have picked up off the side of the road. There was a coffee table and an end table, a lamp sitting on top of it. He had a small TV on a couple of cinder blocks, placed one on top of the other. There were two guitars on stands.

The kitchen was against a partial wall and was small. Just a handful of cabinets, a stove and a refrigerator, and a two-seater table. She could see the door to a bathroom beyond that and assumed the bedroom was on the other side of the wall. She was pretty sure the whole apartment would have fit into her bedroom at home. She turned back to look at him and saw that he looked almost embarrassed. "Deacon, it's cute," she said.

He laughed and shook his head. "Cute, it's not," he said. He bit down on his lip. "So, now you seen it. You ready?"

She screwed up her face. "No, I'm not. Can we sit down?" She didn't wait for him to answer, just walked over and plopped down on the couch. She wasn't prepared for how not really comfortable it was. It was sort of lumpy, actually, certainly not a place to lay down and take a nap or anything. She looked up at him, waiting.

He sighed and then walked over to sit on the other end. She rolled her eyes, then scooted over and pulled her legs up under her, while she put her arms around his neck. "Rayna," he protested, but she shut him up by kissing him. It didn't take long before she felt him put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

After a few minutes, he pulled her onto his lap, all the while continuing to kiss her. She liked the kissing, liked the way he held her, but she also felt like something was happening that was bigger than she was. Bigger than anything she'd felt before. She had a strange quivering feeling in her stomach and her chest. She was excited, but also terrified. His hands moved up and then, again, his hand was at her breast. Her chest felt tight and she felt butterflies deep down inside.

"Oh, Rayna, you're so sweet," he murmured against her mouth before letting his tongue slip back against hers. She felt him lift her and move her so that she was on her back and he lowered himself on top of her. She let her fingers run through the hair on the back of his neck and tried to relax. She loved kissing him, loved feeling him against the length of her, but it still scared her just a little.

When he moved slightly, she could tell he was aroused. She pulled her lips from his and tried to sit up, her hands against the front of his shoulders. "Deacon," she gasped. He looked at her, his eyes a little wild, and then he sprang up and sat on the far end of the couch, running his hands through his hair and breathing hard.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

She was still half lying on the couch, half propped up on her elbows and she sat up all the way, her back against the other end of the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest. "It's okay," she whispered.

He looked at her and she could see real sorrow in his eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you, Rayna," he said.

She shook her head. "You didn't scare me," she said. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her still racing heart. She could still feel how his lips had felt against hers and could still taste him in her mouth. She had a warm feeling deep in her core. "You didn't scare me at all. But…I don't know if I'm ready…for _that_."

He leaned forward and looked down at the floor, his hands clasped between his legs. "I wouldn't never hurt you, Rayna," he said. "I promise."

She moved to sit next to him, putting one hand on his back and waiting until he looked up at her. "I _know_ that," she said, not at all sure _how_ she knew, just that she knew it was true. "I trust you."

He put his hand on her cheek and drew her to him, brushing her lips with a kiss. "I won't do nothing 'til you tell me you're ready," he said. He looked deep into her eyes, his thumb brushing her cheek. She almost felt like she'd stopped breathing for a moment. "I love you, Rayna." His voice was so soft, she almost wasn't sure she'd really heard him right.

She breathed in sharply.

 _ **####**_

He closed his eyes for a second. _I'm such an idiot._ He didn't know why he'd said that. It wasn't that he didn't mean it, but he hadn't meant to say that. Especially not after he'd just told her he wouldn't hurt her. He didn't want her to think he was trying to push her or make her do something she wasn't ready for. He looked at her, a surprised look on her face. He opened his mouth, not sure what to say. If he took it back, how would she feel? Could he explain?

Then she smiled. "I love you too," she whispered.

Now it was his turn to be surprised. "You do?" he asked, his heart in his throat.

She nodded. "Since the first time I saw you." He raised his eyebrows and she sat back, looking worried. "I shouldn't have said that," she murmured, then bit down on her lip.

He reached out and took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Then he pulled back and looked at her. "Me too. That night at the Bluebird," he said. He kissed her again, then let her go and sat back. "But I ain't saying that to get you to do nothing. I promise."

She breathed in deeply. "I believe you."

"You ain't just saying it 'cause I did, are you? 'Cause it's okay if you don't, you know, feel the same." He couldn't imagine this perfect girl having those same feelings for him.

She gave him a sweet smile. "I'm not. I wanted to say it to you before, but I thought you'd think I was too, I don't know, silly, or childish, for that."

He shook his head. "I don't think that at all." He smiled and then took her hands in his. "You're perfect, Rayna."

She laughed. "I'm not perfect, Deacon. I'm just…me."

He pulled her up from the couch. "I need to get you back to your sister's."

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess." She took a step closer to him and put her arms around his waist, looking up at him. He leaned in and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. Nothing in his life had ever felt better than this.

 _ **####**_

She held his hand tightly as he walked her up the stairs to Tandy's apartment. When they got to the door, she turned to face him. "I had such a great time," she said. "And thank you for showing me your place. It's nice."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "It ain't nice, Rayna," he said. "It's just a cheap place."

She shrugged. "But it's your own, Deacon. It's a place to call your own, where you can do what you want." She sighed. "I'm ready to be on my own. To go out and make music and not be tied to all these things that just don't matter."

He frowned. "But you got school, Ray."

"I hate school. And I'm not going to college, so why bother. I want to start on my career. I want to be a country music artist."

"It's a hard life," he said. "Ain't as easy as you want it to be."

She sighed. "I know it's not. But I want to be working on it full time." She smiled shyly. "With you."

He smiled at her and then leaned in to kiss her. "I'd love to do it with you too." He looked over at the door. "You think your sister's home?"

"I don't know. Do you want to come in?"

He shook his head. "I should go. I just wanna be sure you get in okay."

Her heart started beating faster. He was so good to her, so protective. She fished in her purse and pulled out her keys, inserting the key to Tandy's place in the door. She opened the door and stepped in. "Tandy?" she called out, and waited. There was no answer. She turned back to Deacon. "She probably went out. I'll be okay though."

He nodded. "I want you to close the door and lock it. I'll wait 'til you do."

She thought her heart might burst. She reached for him and put her arms around his neck. He leaned in and kissed her, letting his hands rest on the small of her back. She arched her back slightly, leaning into him, enjoying the kiss and the feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue against her own. Finally he pulled back and smiled down at her. "I love you, Deacon," she said.

"I love you, Rayna." He kissed her again on the forehead. "Do you want to get together next Thursday?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes."

He gave her one last kiss. "I'll see you then." He let go of her and stepped back. "Close the door and lock it," he said.

She nodded, then stepped in, slowly closing the door as she smiled at him. When she had finally closed it all the way, she turned the lock and leaned back against the door. She listened as his footsteps headed away from the door and down the hallway, until she didn't hear them anymore. She flew to the window, peeking out through the curtains, watching him walk across the parking lot to his truck. Before he got in, he turned and looked up, seemingly looking at her. Then he opened the door, got in, and sped off.

* * *

Tandy got home about an hour after she did, a little buzzed. She collapsed next to Rayna on the couch and gave her sister a smile. "How was your date?" she asked.

Rayna drew her knees up to her chest and smiled. "It was good. Great, actually."

Tandy looked at her curiously. "Oh?"

"We went to the Five Spot and there was a band there, kind of country rock, although more rock than country really. But they were good. Really loud but good. Then I got Deacon to take me by his place."

Tandy sat up and frowned. "Oh, Rayna, no…."

Rayna rolled her eyes. "Not like that, Tandy. I just wanted to see where he lived. Know a little more about him. Plus he's been to our house." She hugged her legs and smiled. "He told me he loved me."

Now Tandy really did frown. "Rayna. You hardly know him. It's too soon for that. You know what he's looking for, if he's telling you he loves you this soon."

Rayna glared at her sister. "No, Tandy, I don't know. Tell me what it means." She knew she was being argumentative, but it pissed her off that Tandy wasn't giving Deacon a chance. "Tell me."

"You know, sweetheart. When a boy tells you that, it's either because he wants to get in your pants or, in this case, he thinks it might benefit him to hook up to someone who's well off and well connected."

Rayna jumped off the couch, her fists clenched tightly against her legs. "How dare you! He isn't interested in either one of those things." She had to admit to herself that he had, in fact, been aroused, when they were kissing, but she had been too, and he pulled away and didn't push it. "He wasn't like that, Tandy. He didn't try anything with me. And as far as him being interested in…our lifestyle, I don't think so. I think, actually, he's freaked out by it."

Tandy shook her head as she looked up at Rayna. "You're pretty naïve, babe. I mean, how many boys have you actually dated? How would you know what they want? And he's not really a boy anyway. He's nineteen, right? So he's been around. Didn't he have a girlfriend when you met him? I'm sure he wasn't just taking her out to the Five Spot and then dropping her off."

Rayna was furious. "You don't even know him!" she cried. "How can you know what he's like? He's been nothing but kind to me. But he likes me, Tandy. Really likes me. _Loves_ me. He's a good person, a kind person. But you won't even take the time to get to know him." She stood for a moment, fuming, and then she walked over to where her overnight bag was and started throwing her things into it.

Tandy jumped up off the couch. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Rayna ignored her until she had the overnight bag zipped. She picked it up along with her purse and keys. "I'm going home," she said. "I'm not gonna stay here and listen to you be so mean."

Tandy grabbed her arm. "Rayna, stop it. It's after midnight. You can't go home now."

Rayna pulled her arm away. "Of course I can. I'm not a baby, Tandy, even if you do think I'm naïve." She stomped over to the door and pulled it open. She turned back and looked at her sister. "Let me know when you're ready to stop treating me like a child." She walked out, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

She thought she remembered where she was going, but she finally realized she was hopelessly lost. She had crossed the river, but then she got confused by the street names. She finally pulled into a twenty-four hour gas station that had a phone booth. She pulled the door closed on the booth and the light came on, allowing her to fish around in her purse for a quarter. She slid it in and punched in the number, knowing it was very late.

The phone rang four times before she heard it pick up. "What?" came a muffled voice, clearly groggy with sleep.

She felt tears fill her eyes, suddenly a little afraid. "Deacon, it's Rayna. I'm lost."

He cleared his throat. "Rayna? What? Where are you?"

"I was trying to drive over to your apartment, but I got all turned around." Suddenly she was crying.

"Rayna, baby, do you know where you are?" he asked, sounding concerned, which just made her cry more. "Rayna, take a deep breath."

She tried and it helped a little. "I'm at a Marathon station. On Shelby Ave."

"Okay. Is there anything else around?"

She peered out into the darkness. "Just houses, mostly. But there's some apartments near here. I thought they were yours, but they weren't."

"Okay, baby, I'm pretty sure I know where you are. Will you wait in your car? With the doors locked?" She nodded. "Ray?"

"Sorry. Yes, I will."

"Okay, go get in your car, and I'll be right there."

"Okay. Thank you, Deacon."

"It's okay."

She hung up the phone and then did as he told her, getting in her car and locking it. it seemed like a long time had passed, but then she saw headlights pulling into the gas station lot and then heading for her. When she saw Deacon get out of his truck, she burst into tears, unlocking the door and getting out, running into his waiting arms.

He rubbed her back as she cried on his chest. When she finally calmed down, she took a deep breath and then sighed. He put his hands on her face and kissed her forehead. "What were you doing over here, Ray?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Oh, I had this fight with Tandy and left. I was gonna go home but I thought maybe I could find you, but then, well, I got so lost."

He smiled at her. "You're really not that far, but you did seem to get turned around a little." He pushed her hair off her face. "You want me to lead you home?"

She thought about that and then shook her head. "Can I just come sleep on your couch? I'm so tired and it's so late. I hate for you to be out later."

He bit his lip. "I don't know if that's a good idea…."

"Please."

He seemed to be considering it. Finally he said, "You ain't sleeping on the couch. _I'll_ sleep on the couch."

She shook her head. "No, Deacon, it's _your_ place."

"I ain't arguing with you, Rayna. Just follow me, okay?"

 _ **####**_

In the end, she didn't argue with him. It was close to two in the morning when they got to his apartment. She looked exhausted, and he suspected it was not just from the lateness of the hour, but whatever happened at her sister's that caused her to be out on the road looking for him. She let him guide her to the small bed pushed up against the wall in the small bedroom space. She took off her boots and then slid under the sheet, and he pulled it up over her shoulders. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss on the cheek but she was already softly breathing in and out, clearly asleep.

* * *

The sun coming in through the front window woke him early the next morning. He hadn't slept well on the uncomfortable couch and he felt stiff as he sat up and rubbed his face. He got up and peeked around the corner of the partial wall and saw that Rayna was still asleep, having not moved from where he'd left her. He walked back to the small kitchen and set up the coffeemaker, then went to take a shower.

As he felt the warm water sluice down over his body, he considered the fact that, right outside the door, Rayna was asleep. He'd never felt about someone the way he felt about her. He'd been with his fair share of women, had slept with most, if not all, of them. He wasn't much for relationships, his time with Samantha notwithstanding, having not seen a good one in his life.

Rayna was different though. He knew she wasn't someone he could just walk away from. She was someone meant for something more permanent. But she was perfect, unspoiled, not accustomed to the way he'd grown up, the pain and violence of his life, the demons that had chased him, even to Nashville. She deserved better, he knew that, and yet he still wanted her. He sensed, deep inside, that she had the power to lift him up. He couldn't have explained it, but he believed that meeting her had been inevitable and that there was a destiny to it. He just wanted to respect it.

He dressed in the bathroom before coming out and was glad he did. Rayna was sitting at the little two top table, sipping on some coffee. She smiled when he walked out, drying off his hair. "Good morning," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay. I should probably be going soon anyway." That's when he noticed she had a napkin in her hand and he felt his chest tighten. She held it up. "Is this a song?" He tried to breathe but felt like he couldn't. He nodded. "Did you finish it?"

He finally found his breath and his voice. "Yeah," he said, nodding.

"Would you play it for me?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess." He walked slowly over to where his guitars were and picked up one, carrying it back with him. He pulled out the other kitchen chair and sat facing her, settling the guitar on his lap. He breathed in again, feeling nervous. He played the opening chords twice, working up his courage to sing the words to her. The words of the song she'd inspired.

As he sang, he watched her. She had a tiny smile on her face, but otherwise he couldn't really read her face. He wanted her to like it, of course, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking. When he finally finished, he sat and waited. She took a minute and then she sighed. "That was beautiful," she said. "I can tell it came from your heart."

He nodded. "It did."

She smiled. "You always talk about writing your truth. Is that your truth?" He nodded. "Did you write it about someone?"

He nodded again. "You."

Her eyes flew wide open. "Me?" she gasped.

"Yeah." He nodded at the napkin. "First time I saw you on stage at the Bluebird, I wrote that. Finished it later."

She put her hand on her heart. "You didn't even know me then."

He gave her a shy smile. "You inspired me, Rayna." He swallowed hard. "You still do." He watched as a tear escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek. She reached up and wiped it away.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me." She stood up and walked over to him. She leaned over, put her hands on his face, and kissed him. "I love you, Deacon Claybourne," she whispered softly.

When he looked into her eyes, his heart felt full. "I love you, Rayna Jaymes."


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this posted. Life just keeps getting in the way. Hope you enjoy._

She knelt down next to him, her heart feeling full. She was blown away by the song, by what it meant. She might be young, and she knew she was inexperienced, but she knew there was something significant about Deacon. It scared her a little, but it also made her feel protected. She put her hand on his knee and he put his hand over hers. "How did I inspire you?" she asked.

He looked a little embarrassed. Not in a bad way, but like maybe he'd said too much, and it touched her. He shrugged and then sighed. "I came here hoping for a better life. I just wanna play music, write music, however it works out. But it seems like it'd be better doing it with someone."

She nodded. "I get it." She breathed in. "And that someone is me?"

He smiled at her. "You inspire me, Rayna, like I said. You make me laugh, you make me shake my head sometimes. I feel like you see the real me though. I mean, I know we're real different and come from different worlds, but you take me like I am."

"You know that stuff doesn't matter to me." She stood up then and pulled him up by the hand. He walked over to put his guitar back in its stand and then came back to her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She definitely didn't have much experience with kissing, but she knew what she felt with him was real. She loved how his lips felt on hers, how his tongue felt in her mouth, the taste of him. She loved his arms around her, pulling her closer. And then she felt it again. That hardness against her lower abdomen that she knew meant he wanted her.

He seemed to be so lost in the kiss that he didn't realize what was happening, or at least that's what she told herself. She had, of course, read in her romance novels about lovemaking. Sometimes it was sweet, with lots of kisses and caresses, but other times it was wild and dangerous. The female involved always seemed to like it in the end, be transformed and transported by the feelings. She would often wonder what it would feel like when she had that experience for the first time. Would it be like the stories she read?

She pulled her lips from his. "Deacon," she said, her voice soft. He was breathing hard and he had a bit of a wild look in his eyes. That made her a little nervous. He almost looked like he hadn't heard her. "Deacon, do you want to…do it?" She knew the last two words were barely a whisper.

"Do what?" he asked, sounding breathless. His hands gripped her arms.

"You know," she said, lowering her lashes.

He seemed to snap out of the daze he'd been in then and stepped back. "No, Rayna," he said, a little harshly. Then he breathed in and leaned back in, brushing her lips lightly with his. "No, baby," he said, his voice softer, more gentle. "I ain't asking you to do that. Not when you ain't ready."

She looked up at him. "Maybe I am," she said, not feeling nearly as brave as that sounded. It had surprised her when he said no. Tandy had told her, over and over again, that all men wanted was to get in your pants. That she should hold back from saying yes too quickly, because once they got what they wanted, they didn't come back.

He shook his head. "Not yet, baby. It's a big step and I want you to really be sure. I mean, it, well, it changes everything."

"It does?"

He took a deep breath. "Listen. You're special, Ray. And I wanna treat you right. So, let's not rush stuff." He pushed her hair back off her face. "You should probably go home now, don't you think? Somebody'll be wondering where you are."

She sighed. "I don't know if anyone will be wondering, but I guess I do need to go." She raised up on her toes and kissed him quickly. "Thanks for rescuing me last night," she said with a shy smile.

He put his hands on her face and kissed her forehead. "All you ever gotta do is ask," he said. She smiled up at him. "Let me walk you out, okay?" She nodded.

He waited while she picked up her purse and then put his hand on the small of her back, leading her towards the door. She couldn't help but think that simple gesture felt so comforting. It felt protective and it felt like he was saying she was his. She felt a shiver run up her spine, but it was one that left her tingling, in a good way. When they walked out of the apartment, he took her hand as they walked down the steps to the parking lot.

When they got to her car, he turned her so that her back was against the driver's side door. He leaned in and kissed her, letting the kiss linger, as he slid his tongue in her mouth, letting it battle hers. She dropped her purse on the asphalt and put her arms around his neck. She felt his hands on her waist and she arched her back slightly so that she was tilted towards him. He finally pulled his lips from hers, then gave her one more gentle peck. "You know how to get back?"

She nodded and smiled. "It's easier in the daylight." She dropped her arms and he leaned down to pick up her purse, sliding it over her shoulder.

He leaned in and kissed her again. "So I'm working every morning at the diner. I'm at Robert's Monday through Wednesday." He looked at her a little shyly. "I'm thinking about going to a place down in south Nashville Monday night. You think you could go?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. I'll have to find out Daddy's schedule." She sighed. "He's usually home on Mondays."

"Well, Thursday for sure though, right?" She nodded. He reached around her then and opened her car door. She got in and then he leaned over and brushed her lips with a kiss. "I love you," he said.

She looked up at him. "I love you too." He shut the door and then stepped back onto the sidewalk, watching as she pulled out. She gave him one last wave before she drove out of the parking lot and onto the street.

* * *

She wound her way down the streets of East Nashville and then crossed the river into downtown Nashville, before winding her way back towards the Vanderbilt area. As she drove, she thought about how sweet he'd been to come find her and then let her stay at his apartment. She knew he thought it was nothing special, just a studio apartment in a down on its heels area of town. But she thought he was so brave, to have come all the way from Mississippi to follow his dream. She knew he was cobbling together jobs along with writing music and trying to get gigs where he could. The place where he lived sort of fit all that, working hard to make it.

The bed wasn't as comfortable as her bed at home, of course, but it was such a symbol to her, that he was on his way. She wanted that too, the chance to follow her dream, and somehow it felt like doing it from Belle Meade was cheating somehow. She could go chase gigs and showcases, but then she got to go home to a mansion and her comfortable bed and a housekeeper to take care of her needs. Living like Deacon did meant life experiences, the things he was always telling her would become her music. Her soundtrack.

As she got closer to Tandy's, she frowned. Tandy was so wrong about Deacon. The fact that he hadn't taken advantage of her, that he'd treated her with respect, showed what he was made of. She did want to be with him, in every way possible, but she also knew she probably wasn't quite ready yet. Some of that still scared her a little. It was the not knowing what to expect. She knew her romance novels made it all seem more hearts and flowers than it really was. Tandy had told her she should wait until it was right. And Deacon had said it changed things. She supposed both were right.

 _ **####**_

He watched as she drove out of the parking lot. It had taken every ounce of willpower he'd had to stay away from her. He'd hardly slept all night, knowing she was just around the partial wall, sleeping in his bed. He couldn't stop thinking about how scared she'd sounded on the phone and then how relieved she'd looked when he drove up to where she had parked. He'd do anything to protect her, and that had kept him from doing what he'd wanted to do, which was to crawl under the covers and put his hands all over her.

She was a virgin, he knew that. She'd never actually told him so, but she didn't have to. He could sense it and hear it in her voice, hear it in her music. And he wouldn't violate that until she was ready. It had surprised him a little, to be so protective of her that way. Back in Natchez, he could have had any girl he wanted and he did, having sex in the back of his truck or sometimes in the bathroom of a gas station. The night he'd met Samantha Beasley, she'd taken him home with her. And although he'd stayed with Samantha for a while, he'd really never been one for relationships. Most of the girls he'd been with had been short-lived things or one nighters. He didn't trust himself to get too involved with anyone, not with the way he'd grown up and the demons he fought. He hadn't trusted himself.

Rayna was different though. It had surprised the hell out of him to find himself falling in love with her. She was someone you were with for the long haul, that he knew for sure. He couldn't treat her like he had other girls. Rayna deserved better. He knew he didn't fit in her world, so he also didn't want to get his hopes up. He needed to take his time with her, make sure she knew what she was getting into. At the same time, though, he could see she was genuine. She had integrity. And he couldn't have said why he was so sure, but he knew she was the real deal.

* * *

On Saturdays he did an early evening set at Robert's. He appreciated that he got to do it, because it exposed him to a bigger audience. He wasn't the headliner, but it was a good spot for an up and coming artist. Saturday nights were big nights at Robert's – and all the downtown honky tonks – and he always tried to make the most of it. It was times like these when he was glad he had a good portfolio of original music, even though he still had to mix in covers. Some of his originals were starting to get traction, which gave him confidence.

Two of his favorite artists to cover were Merle Haggard and Waylon Jennings. Although he didn't like to categorize himself, he did identify more with the outlaw country sound, exemplified by Merle and Waylon. He was finishing up a Waylon tune when he saw Watty White come into the bar. _Someday I'll get over you / I'll live to see it all through / But I'll always miss / Dreaming my dreams with you._ He got a good round of applause and Watty, standing at the bar, sipping on a drink, gave him a nod.

When he finished his set, Watty was still at the bar, and he walked up next to him. "Hey there, Watty," he said, holding out his hand.

Watty shook his hand and gave him a tight smile. "Good set there, Deacon. I know you have to weave in covers, but your own songs have real promise."

He let himself smile a little. "Thank you, sir."

"You give any more thought to doing some work with Rayna?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir, I have. We actually did a short set down at Shotgun Sally's in Murfreesboro. I would, uh, be willing to help her out."

"That's good to hear. If you're available next week, I've got a couple irons in the fire for her. Starting with the Bluebird on Monday night."

He raised an eyebrow. "She may not be available Monday night," he said.

"You've seen her?" Watty asked.

He nodded. "Yes, sir." He swallowed. "This morning."

Watty frowned then, almost like he was her father. "You know she's only sixteen," he said, _sounding_ like a father.

"It ain't like that. I would never do nothing with her til she's ready."

Watty looked at him carefully. "You're interested in her?" he asked.

He nodded. "Yes, sir. But I respect her. She knows that."

Watty finished his drink and then put the empty glass down on the bar. He tapped his fingers on the side of the glass. "I'll see about Monday. She'll let you know, I guess?" Deacon nodded. "Then we can talk about my plan." He reached out then and patted Deacon on the shoulder, giving him a little smile. "Good to see you, Deacon. We'll talk soon." Then he turned and walked out.

He watched the older man walk away, then picked up his guitar case and walked out into the steamy evening and the street busy with people, blending in, headed for his truck.

 _ **####**_

Rayna walked up the steps to Tandy's apartment and let herself in. She closed the door softly and looked towards the bedroom. The door was closed, so she sat down on the couch and slid off her boots. She laid back against the cushions and looked up at the ceiling. She thought about Deacon again and smiled to herself. She reached up and put her fingers lightly on her lips, still feeling his against hers. She thought about the feeling of his calloused fingers against her skin, as he held her close. She thought back to him sitting on the chair, his guitar in his lap, singing that song to her. The one he said he'd written about her, that she'd inspired. She grinned. It gave her a warm feeling inside.

She rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow against her cheek, still smiling. She breathed in deeply and thought about loving Deacon Claybourne. She was asleep within minutes.

* * *

"Rayna!"

Rayna opened her eyes, jumping a little, then looked up into the face of her sister. She sat up on the couch. "Hey. Sorry."

Tandy looked confused and worried and a little angry, all at once. She sat down next to her sister. "What are you doing back here?" she asked.

Rayna took a deep breath. "I, uh, I didn't go home," she said, in a small voice, ready for the blow up.

Tandy's eyes got wide. "Where did you go?" She shook her head. "Please don't tell me…."

Rayna set her jaw. "I went to Deacon's." She could see Tandy ready to explode and she held up her hand. "Nothing happened. I fell asleep on his bed" – she could see her sister bowing up – "and he slept on the couch. He was a perfect gentleman, Tandy. He said he wouldn't take advantage of me. And he didn't."

Tandy flopped back on the couch and rolled her eyes. "My God, Rayna, you can't _do_ things like that. One of these days, if you do it again – and you better not – he's not going to say no."

"He said nothing would happen until I was ready," she retorted. "Not until I'm sure." Tandy looked skeptical. "He said it changes everything," she said softly.

Tandy raised her eyebrows. "Well, it does. You don't want to give that away to just anyone, Rayna."

"Is that what you did?"

Tandy looked away for a moment and then back at her sister. "Maybe. I didn't think it through completely." She grabbed Rayna's hands and looked at her earnestly. "I don't want that for you. I want it to be wonderful, with a man you love, who loves you and will treat you respectfully."

Rayna looked at Tandy for a minute, then smiled. "What was it like the first time?"

"Rayna…."

"Please. I just want to know what to expect." She waved her hand in front of her. "Not that I'm planning to do it now, but I want to know."

Tandy sighed. "Let me make some tea first," she said, and then she got up from the couch.

* * *

When Tandy came back with two cups of tea, Rayna was waiting patiently for her sister's story. As close as the two were, they'd never talked about Tandy's first time. Not necessarily by design, but now Rayna was anxious to know.

Tandy took a sip of tea and then let her shoulders slump a little. She sighed. "I was your age, Rayna," she said. "Sixteen." That surprised Rayna. Tandy's voice turned soft and a little melancholy. "It wasn't all that long after Mom died," she said quietly. "You remember how sad we were, how hard everything was then." Rayna nodded. "I was just so…lonely, I guess. Or something." She set her tea down on the coffee table. "I was dating a guy from MBA, he played football. Seth was his name. Actually, we'd just had a couple dates." She smiled sadly at her sister. "We went out after a game, with some of the other players and their dates. I remember it was Amerigo's."

Rayna smiled. "One of our favorites."

Tandy nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, he was taking me home and he wanted to go park somewhere. So, you know, we went to Percy Warner and found a secluded little area. We got in the back seat, because he had those bucket seats with a console in between and that's not too easy to kiss in." She waved her hand in the air. "It started off nice. He was a good kisser and that felt really good." She sighed then and her eyes got a little teary. "But, you know, I just missed Mom so much. And Daddy wasn't around. I just needed someone to put their arms around me and hold me."

Rayna leaned forward and put her arms around her sister. "I wish I could have been more help," she whispered.

Tandy sat back. "Oh, sweetie, you were. But you were so heartbroken yourself." She wiped her eyes and tried to smile. "Anyway, at some point, my panties were off and his jeans were unzipped and I thought I wanted it, but oh my God, it hurt so bad." She grabbed Rayna's hands. "It was the worst pain I've ever felt and it just didn't stop. It was like it was burning, it hurt so bad. All I remember is crying and finally he stopped. He got back in the front seat and drove me home. And I never saw him again."

Rayna took a deep breath. "Why did it hurt so much?"

"Well, part of it is that it just does the first time. I suppose it doesn't have to be so bad, if someone were more gentle, but he wasn't. And that just made it worse. And I couldn't decide if I wished I'd never done it or just wished it had been someone else."

"Did it get better?"

Tandy smiled. "Well, it didn't hurt anymore, but I can't really say it got better. That's why I want you to wait for the right guy. The one who will be gentle with you, because he truly loves you and wants to take care of you and is sensitive to you."

Rayna thought that sounded just like Deacon and then she wondered why she was so sure. But she was. She was certain he'd be that gentle, caring person. But she had to admit to herself that the pain part made her nervous. "Are you sorry you did it then?" she asked.

Tandy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I would have chosen someone else for the first time. I _have_ actually been with guys who were very sweet. But I haven't been in love yet. I'm sure that will make a difference." She held Rayna's hands. "Don't let any guy make you feel like you have to have sex. And don't let Deacon talk you into it, just because he tells you he loves you. A guy will tell you that to get you to go to bed with him."

She pulled her hands away and frowned. "I just don't think he's like that."

"I know you don't. But just take your time. Don't rush anything. Promise me that." She looked at Rayna earnestly. "Please, sweetie."

Rayna nodded. "I'll be careful. I promise." Tandy got up then and picked up the cups to take them to the kitchen. Rayna leaned back against the arm of the couch and thought about what her sister had said. She decided she was glad Deacon had told her no. She would have had no idea what to expect and, although she thought he would be careful with her, she also decided maybe she wasn't quite ready yet. Maybe she _would_ wait a while.

 _ **####**_

He stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, looking in the mirror, his hair wet. He held a razor in his hand, but then he reconsidered. He put one hand on his cheek and rubbed it. It did feel a little rough, but maybe Rayna wouldn't mind. He kind of liked the scruff. It gave him a little edge, he thought, made him look a little older. Then he worried Rayna wouldn't like it and he almost shaved it off, but at the last minute, he set down the razor and reached for the dryer instead.

He dressed in the best jeans he owned and a blue striped shirt. One of the cuffs was a little ripped, so he rolled up the sleeves. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots, then slid his belt on. He got up and walked over to his guitars, picking one and settling it in the guitar case. Then he picked up his keys and headed out the door.

* * *

As he turned onto Lynnwood, he wondered if he'd ever feel comfortable in this part of town. This was so foreign to anything he'd ever known. Sure, there had been mighty mansions in Natchez, out along the river, where the wealthy of that town lived. He'd never been there, though. This was different and it made him wonder, every time, if he had the right to be there. Rayna would tell him it was just a house, but it wasn't. It was everything he'd never had, would never have, although he surely aspired to it. The country stars who'd made it lived here and out farther west, behind gates and long driveways and tall trees that grew like privacy fences.

As he approached the house where Rayna lived, he reminded himself she was worth it.

* * *

He watched her as she sang. Freed from struggling with a guitar, it left her able to concentrate on the song, on the words, on making that connection with the audience. And she was definitely doing that. He could see everyone in the small listening space was caught up in the magic of her voice. He couldn't help but feel proud of her, even though it was all her. He could already tell she would be one of those artists who captured an audience completely.

In the middle of her song, she turned and looked back at him and smiled. He smiled back, thinking about how happy she looked. _This_ was her home. Not that mansion in Belle Meade, not that insulated community she'd grown up in, but this stage. And every other stage like it.

 _When he was with her, he felt like the weight of his demons was lifted, if not for good, at least for a little while. Feeling her hand in his as they ran down the steps to his truck made him feel secure. Gave him that feeling of hope, that things could be better, that they_ _would_ _be better. He opened the door to the truck and held her hand as she got in. Then he shut the door and ran around to join her. He turned the key in the ignition and looked over at her. "I'm glad you could do this," he said._

 _She smiled. "Me too." He headed down the driveway and out towards the road. "Daddy's always gone these days though."_

 _He glanced over at her. "Would he really be mad if he knew you was doing this?"_

 _She nodded. "He's told me, in no uncertain terms, that he does not like this_ _hillbilly_ _music, as he calls it. And he doesn't want me playing around with it. That my mom led me down a wrong path when she let me listen to country music."_

 _He frowned. "I thought you said your mama liked it."_

" _She did. We listened to it together all the time. She had these cassette tapes with all kinds of songs. Some by famous artists and some by unknowns." She smiled. "She liked to go listen to live music. She told me once that she did it when Tandy and I were in school. And then made me promise not to tell. Because Daddy would have gotten mad, I suppose, if he knew."_

 _He looked over at her and smiled. "Who were your favorites?"_

" _Well, I loved 'Rose Colored Glasses', so I loved John Conlee. And Patsy Cline, of course. Dolly. And Merle." She grinned._

 _He raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty big mix."_

" _What about you?"_

" _Oh, you know, Merle, Waylon, Johnny Cash. Those kinda guys."_

 _She smiled. "Sounds about right." She sat back and sighed. "I wonder what Watty's big plan is."_

" _Probably to get you more gigs."_

 _She looked over at him. "When I get the first paying appearance, I'll feel like I've got a chance."_

 _He smiled. "I'm pretty sure that's gonna happen. Sooner rather than later."_

He couldn't have said why he was so sure, but as she wound up her set, he was more confident than before that it was going to happen for her.

* * *

As the crowd was leaving, they stayed behind to talk to Watty. He leaned forward at the table where they sat and tapped his fingers. "Y'all are like gold together, you know that?" he asked. They looked at each other with tentative smiles. "Deacon, can I count on you to play guitar?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

Watty gave him a wry smile. "Look, I know you want your own career, and you could probably still do that in some way, but you have a gift for songwriting and I think you could do some special things for Rayna. Plus the two of you have an amazing chemistry together on stage." He turned towards Rayna. "Rayna, I want you out playing at least two to three times a week. I'll work on some things for you, but I want you to start hitting the clubs and bars and honky tonks, anywhere there's an opportunity. That's where, if Deacon will partner up with you, you can really start getting a following. And he can help get y'all inside. He's played a lot of those places." Deacon wondered how he knew that, but it was true. He'd played anywhere he could, both with Beverly and on his own. Watty tapped the table. "I'll be in touch." With that, he got up and walked out, leaving them to watch him go.

She turned back to him then. "I guess he's right, huh?"

He nodded. "Watty's a big guy in the music business, so, yeah." He smiled at her. "You game then?"

She smiled. "Absolutely."

 _ **####**_

When they got to the truck, she turned to look up at him. "You know, I wrote 'Back Again' about you. Well, I was thinking about you when I wrote it."

He looked surprised. "You did?"

She nodded. "I just think, no matter what happens, we'll always find our way back to each other." She held her breath, not knowing if that was too much, but then he suddenly leaned into her and kissed her, hard, and she kissed him back. When he finally pulled his lips, very reluctantly, from hers, she could hardly breathe. He had taken her breath away with the emotion of the kiss.

He put his hand on her cheek, letting his thumb graze her skin. "I love you, Rayna," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"I love you too," she said. He opened the door then and helped her in. When he got in on the other side, she reached out and put her fingers on his cheek, turning his face towards hers. She ran her fingers lightly over his scruff and smiled. "I like this, by the way. I think you should keep it." Then she sat back, her hands in her lap, still smiling.


	20. Chapter 20

Watty sat at a back table at the Bluebird, watching each of the acts on stage with a practiced ear. He was there to hear Rayna, but he never stopped listening for new talent. Ever since he'd met Rayna, he'd kept an eye on her, both musically and personally. He hadn't told her he'd sent other music minds to listen to her, just to be sure he wasn't judging her because of who she was. What he'd learned was that, if anything, he'd underestimated her talent. Getting her out from behind a guitar had been key.

He'd been very impressed with Deacon Claybourne as well, although more as a guitar player and songwriter than as an artist. His songs had a nuance to them that was unexpected in someone so young. He thought Rayna could not only benefit from him as her guitar player, but he could pass on some songwriting wisdom to her as well.

When she came out on the stage, he focused his attention on her. But, as always, he couldn't help but think about Virginia. She would have been so proud of her little girl, he knew. And he wanted to protect her, help her, guide her, as she achieved her dreams. He had promised himself he would never tell her he knew her mother, would never tell her Virginia Jaymes Wyatt had been the one true love of his life.

She had died so young, before they'd had a chance to build a real life together. She had called him that fateful night, crying, telling him she and Lamar had had a raging fight and that she'd made the decision to leave him. _Come to me, my little butterfly,_ he'd told her, and then he'd waited. But the night wore on and she never arrived. It wasn't until the next day that he heard the news.

He still didn't know why she'd been on River Road that night, going in the opposite direction from Nashville. He didn't understand why she'd been driving so fast, although he guessed she just wanted to put as much distance between herself and Lamar as she could. He thought maybe she would have called him later, letting him know where she'd gone. He imagined she would tell him she didn't want to lead her husband to him. Not until she'd figured things out. But he would never know. And now, he was watching her daughter stand on the stage of the Bluebird Café, starting on the path to stardom.

When she finished, he stood and clapped, then waved them over. The two of them were gold together, that he knew for sure. This was lightning in a bottle and he intended to capture it, nurture it, and then send it out to soar.

* * *

He wound his way around the narrow roads inside the old cemetery. He could have made his way with his eyes closed. He slowed down and then parked his car. He got out and stood for a moment, squinting up at the sun. It was a hot, sticky day, as July days often were, but there was the hint of a breeze as he walked slowly across the grass. He stopped in front of a low, unassuming granite marker. It had always surprised him that it wasn't grander, something more befitting the business scion Lamar saw himself as. He took a deep breath, then sat on the stone bench in front of the marker. _Virginia Jaymes Wyatt._ He still couldn't believe she was truly gone.

A smile crept across his face. "You'd be proud of her, Virginia. She's like you, a spitfire, full of life. Beautiful young woman with great talent. She'll be a star." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "I'll make sure she's taken care of. She'll have the best, get a chance to showcase her talent. I'll take care of her, I promise you that."

He felt tears filling his eyes and he reached up to rub them away. It had been just four years, but it felt like a lifetime since she'd been gone. He still couldn't quite believe he'd never see her again. Sometimes he thought he felt her presence, smelled her light, floral perfume, heard her beautiful laugh. But when he'd turn, it was never her, and he'd miss her all over again.

 _ **####**_

He smiled a little at her comment. He had hoped she might be okay with him not shaving. He also felt like it gave him a little of that outlaw country look, which he liked, even if he didn't want that label. He pulled out onto Hillsboro Pike and headed towards Belle Meade. He thought again about how she said she'd written her song for him. It made him feel warm inside. He glanced over at her. She was looking out the side window and he wondered what she was thinking. "You know, you do a pretty good job writing," he said.

She turned towards him, a shy smile on her face. "Really? You think so?"

He nodded. "I do. That song you did tonight, it was really good. You should do more of that."

She made a face. "It's so hard though. It takes me so long to get it right. I can't just knock out a song in an hour like you."

He laughed. "You think that's all it takes? An hour?"

"But you said you had a whole bunch of songs."

He smiled. "I do. But it takes more'n an hour to write 'em. Sometimes it takes days."

She looked surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Really. Just 'cause maybe I got a lot of stuff in my life, don't mean it's easy to write about. And then you gotta think about verses, chorus, bridge, tag, whatever."

She frowned. "What's a tag?"

He thought about how to explain it. It had always seemed like something he just knew, but no one had ever asked him about it. "I guess it's kinda like a punctuation mark, usually at the end of a chorus or the end of a song. Kind of something extra. I don't always use one, 'cause a song don't always need it." He looked at her. "You just know, I guess, if you need it."

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Maybe you could help me some time," she said. "Like when I get stuck, or something."

They were turning down the street she lived on. He nodded at her. "Sure. I'd be glad to." He concentrated then on pulling into her driveway and up to the house. He put the car in park and looked over at her.

She looked at him a little shyly. "When will I see you again?"

"Well, Watty said you need to be singing more. I could take you to someplace on lower Broad, if you want. Tomorrow?"

She smiled. "I would love that." She took a deep breath. "Could you maybe come a little early and we could talk some about writing?"

He was pretty sure he'd do most anything she asked, and spending more time with her was an easy one to agree to. "Yeah, I can do that. What time you want me to come?"

She shrugged. "Anytime. Two? Three?"

"Maybe three? I got my job at the diner tomorrow, so two would be hard."

"Okay." She put her hand on the door handle, but didn't take her eyes off him. "Will you walk me to the door?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "'Course I will." He turned the truck off and got out, jogging around to the passenger side. He opened the door for her and helped her out. He shut the door and then, holding her hand, walked her up the steps.

She looked up at him. "Thanks for going with me," she said. "I really appreciate you helping me out."

"I'm glad to do it, Ray," he said.

She smiled. "I like it when you call me Ray," she said, with a little laugh. Then she rose up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. He didn't let her go though, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close, feeling her mouth open to his. He kissed her deeply, loving the feel of her lips on his and her tongue battling his. She felt soft and warm against his body and he knew, yet again, that he had fallen seriously in love with her. When he let her go, she looked breathless. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, her voice soft and gentle.

He nodded. "Yeah, you will," he said. He took her hand and leaned in for one more quick kiss, then turned and headed back to his truck. When he got in, he looked back and saw her still standing on the porch, watching him. He raised his hand in a wave and she did the same. Then he started his truck and headed back out the way he had come.

* * *

When he got to his apartment, he set his guitar back on its stand, then took his boots off. He walked into the kitchen and poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass. He downed it in one swallow, wincing at the burn in his throat and taking in a deep breath. Then he poured another and walked back to the living room, setting the bottle on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. He knocked back the second shot and poured another. This one he sipped at, as he considered his next steps.

He was giving up a lot of his time to help Rayna with her career and, while he loved being with her and loved her excitement, it was time he wasn't spending on his own music and his own dreams. When he'd left Natchez, it was to make his own way. Sure, Beverly had come with him, and he'd been fine with that. It had been an escape from a hard, painful life, one he didn't like to dwell on, but one that had fueled some of his music.

He thought about what it had been like growing up in that world. He rubbed his face as he thought back on how quickly his world could change. There were times when it felt like they were really a family – his father, mother, Beverly, and him – but there was always a heightened sense of anxiety, because it could all change in seconds. Something would happen, at work or just a chance encounter somewhere, and his father would come home in a rage, usually fueled by whiskey. His mother had tried, in the beginning, to protect him and Beverly, but she was no match for an angry Gideon Claybourne.

He felt his heart pound, just thinking about his father. He still remembered one terrifying night, when Gideon had beaten up his mother, slammed Beverly against a wall for defying him, and then turned on him, when he tried to reach for a gun. He put his hand on his throat, still feeling his father's powerful hand there, holding him against the door jamb. He could still smell the scent of sour whiskey and sweat, as his father breathed in his face. _You're gonna grow up to be just like me._ It was a threat and a promise, one he'd been determined not to let come to fruition. He'd mostly been successful at it, but he'd acquired his own taste for whiskey and he knew, sometimes, he used it to hide from the memories.

He reached for the glass and threw back the rest of the drink. He started to feel the tiniest buzz and he knew he should stop. He had to get up early the next morning for work and then he was supposed to meet Rayna. His eyes watered just a little as he thought about her. He could see her, as if she were standing in front of him, all pretty and sweet-smelling and perfect, and he knew, deep down inside, that he should tell her to run away from him, as far as she could go.

He downed one more glass of whiskey, thinking about her innocence and how she had the whole world in front of her. He didn't want to hold her back, didn't want to lose her in the end. He wasn't at all sure what he was doing with her, except that he loved her and she represented something beautiful and magical all at once. She was like the light he was searching for, that goodness that might save him.

He would do anything for her. Even if it meant giving up his own dreams. That he knew for sure.

 _ **####**_

She'd been standing at the window next to the door, watching for Deacon's truck, since just before three. It was twenty minutes past now and she was feeling anxious. As grateful as she'd been to have him be on stage with her and be willing to help her out, she realized it was taking time away from his own music, and she wondered if he would grow to resent that. _Or maybe he already has._ Maybe that was why he wasn't at her house – he had decided maybe it wasn't worth it after all. She felt an ache in her chest and she felt disappointment and that maybe she'd pushed him too hard.

Just as she was ready to turn away, she saw his truck pull up to the front of the house. She saw him jump out of the truck and around the front to the steps. She couldn't stop the smile from breaking across her face as she opened the front door. He stopped just short. "You came," she said.

He looked confused. "'Course I did," he said. "I was just running late. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, still smiling. "It's okay. Do you want to come in?"

"Sure." He nodded. "Um, I got us an hour spot at a little place on 2nd Avenue. At five."

She widened her eyes. "An hour? I don't know if I know that many songs." She bit her lip. "You could do some of yours."

He shrugged. "Maybe."

She realized he was still on the porch, so she stepped back. "Come on in." He walked in past her and stood just inside the door, looking up and around, like he had before. She tried to look at it through his eyes, based on what little she knew about his experience, and she realized it probably did seem grand and intimidating and maybe even a little stuffy. "Let's go outside."

He turned and looked at her, giving her a shy smile. "Okay." She led the way, through the den and out onto the patio. She sat at the patio table and he followed suit.

"I looked up Natchez in the encyclopedia," she said. He didn't say anything, so she went on. "I didn't know the Natchez Trace went from here to Natchez. Have you ever been on it?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Not much along the way though."

"Do you ever want to go back there?"

He breathed in, just looking at her. He put his hand on the table, palm down. "It's not a place I wanna go back to, Rayna. Or talk about, really. If that's okay."

She felt a little embarrassed then. "Oh. Okay." She remembered what he'd said about his parents, his sister, and the life they'd led there. She supposed it wouldn't be a place he remembered fondly, even if his father was gone. Just then the kitchen door opened and Vernice bustled out with a tray.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Miss Rayna, but I saw you had a young man out here and thought y'all might like some iced tea," she said, setting the tray down. Without waiting for a response, she busied herself pouring tea into tall glasses filled with ice and a sprig of mint. She set one in front of Deacon and one in front of Rayna, then stood back and beamed.

Rayna looked up at the older woman and smiled. "Thank you, Vernice. This is perfect," she said.

Vernice clasped her hands in front of her. "I'll let y'all talk then." She tapped Deacon on the shoulder. "So nice to see you again. Then she scurried back into the house.

Deacon watched until she was gone, then turned back to Rayna. "She wait on y'all all the time?" he asked.

She shook her head. "She's really just the housekeeper. But she always loves to be nice to visitors." She smiled. "And I think she likes you." She noticed that Deacon blushed just a little. She took a sip of her tea. "So, will you tell me about writing songs? How I can make mine better?"

He looked thoughtful. "I been thinking about that," he said. "Maybe we could try writing together, that way you'll see."

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She'd always thought she'd write her own songs. Not that she was especially good at it and it certainly took a long time to finish them. She bit her lip. "Maybe." She sighed. "I think, though, I'm more worried about being on stage an hour. That's a lot of songs, Deacon." She felt butterflies in her stomach. She'd done forty-five minutes at Robert's, of course, but an hour seemed so much longer somehow. "You really should do some of yours."

"But you told me you sang with your mama a lot. Don't you know a lot of songs? Maybe they ain't ones you wrote, but you can sing 'em anyway. It's an early spot, so covers are okay."

"I guess."

He smiled at her then. "Let's see how it goes." He drank the rest of his tea in one swallow, then put the glass on the table. "Let's go then." He stood up and held out his hand to her. She just took a second and then she smiled up at him, took his hand, and let him pull her up. She couldn't believe she was actually going to be on stage for a whole hour. She was already thinking about what she could sing.

 _ **####**_

He just drove, smiling as he listened to her. He hadn't been surprised at how well she'd done – he'd seen her many times, after all – but she seemed to be flying on a cloud. She had been amazing, had the crowd eating out of her hand. She had written up a set list on the way and she had picked out songs that highlighted her voice perfectly. He had given her a few suggestions on the order, which she had agreed with, and then she had delivered. He couldn't help but think back to the song she'd ended it on, a Dolly Parton song that hadn't gotten as much airplay as many of her others. But everyone in the place had been entranced by her, as she sang. He still felt haunted by the end of the song, as much because of how she'd performed it as about the words.

 _Then I felt the lonely dripping down my face  
As I realized no one could take your place  
I wondered where the love had gone that we had found  
And then again I felt the lonely comin' down _

_I wondered where the love had gone that we had found  
And again I felt the lonely comin' down _

"Deacon." He shook his head, realizing he'd been daydreaming. He turned to her.

"What, baby?"

She frowned. "You weren't even listening."

He reached across the seat for her hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry, baby." He smiled. "I was just thinking back on how great you were."

She smiled then. "I felt like I was just floating, you know? Like I was standing on the edge of a, I don't know, the precipice of something big."

It was his turn to frown. "A preci-what?"

She laughed, that beautiful laugh that lit up her face. "A precipice. Like a cliff or a mountain. Standing right on the edge, getting ready to take off and fly." She clasped her hands and rested her chin on them. "It just felt kind of amazing." She took a deep breath. "Am I ready? I'm just not sure if I'm ready."

He smiled back at her. "You're ready, Ray. More than ready." He looked back at the road. "So what do you think your father's gonna say?"

"You mean when he finds out I'm still doing this?" He nodded. She shrugged. "I think he'll be mad, because" – she looked over at him – "no one ever goes against Lamar Wyatt." She rolled her eyes. "But I'm not scared of him. I think he'll yell a lot, but what's he gonna do really?"

He glanced at her, but she was looking out the side window. She had a lot of bravado, that was for sure, and she had a lot of gumption, but he had to wonder what would happen if she really defied her father. Lamar Wyatt sure didn't seem like someone who would just roll over and let her do what she wanted.

 _ **####**_

She and Deacon played another short set the next night and then her father was home unexpectedly. They were supposed to be part of a showcase at a place in East Nashville. She didn't want to have to skip it. She knew better than to try to sneak out, so she told her father she had a date.

"Who is this date with?" he asked, narrowing his eyes just a touch.

She tried to be nonchalant about it. "You've met him, Daddy. Deacon. He's playing a set and I'm going to listen," she said, telling a little white lie and crossing her fingers behind her back.

He shook his head. "I've told you he's not your kind, Rayna. You shouldn't let yourself be sullied by someone like that."

She looked at him incredulously. "'Sullied'? What does that even mean, Daddy? He's nice to me. He cares about me."

He laughed, but it wasn't a jovial sound. The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure he cares, Rayna. He cares about where you come from. He just wants to ride on your back, take advantage of you."

"That's ridiculous. He doesn't care about any of this." She waved her hands around. "We have things in common, Daddy, like music. And he's a good person."

He narrowed his eyes. "Rayna, I've done a little digging on this…Deacon person," he said.

"I don't care, Daddy." She looked away.

"I think you _should_ care, Rayna. His father is an alcoholic, beat up his family, left them all. The son is already showing those tendencies as well. His mother, well, his mother was in and out of mental institutions and the sister has her own struggles with the same thing. He's from a poor family, Rayna, didn't finish school, got into trouble, spent a night or two in jail. He's not the kind of young man you should be involved with."

Rayna didn't say anything at first. Deacon hadn't told her all of that, at least not about his mom or about getting into trouble. Not that it mattered. He wasn't his parents and he was a kind person, treated her respectfully. And he loved her. She knew that like she knew her own name. She also knew he'd never let her down. She didn't know why she was so sure, but she knew they'd be connected forever. She looked at her father. "I don't care about his life before he came here, Daddy. I care about him _now_. I care about the person he's become, in spite of all of that. He's a good man, Daddy." She saw lights cross in front of the windows and she glanced that way, then back at her father. "He's here. I'm going out." She started towards the door.

Her father walked out of his study and into the foyer. "You're doing this against my wishes, Rayna. Just understand that if you want to live in my house, you have to live by my rules."

She looked at him and shook her head, then walked out the front door.

* * *

She felt like she was floating off the stage when their set was done. Deacon put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. "You were amazing, Ray," he said, a big smile on his face.

She laughed out loud. "If I was, it was because of you."

He shook his head. "Nah. I just was playing guitar."

She pointed her finger at him. "And singing harmony with me. And freeing me to just sing. That's not insignificant, as you know." He laughed. She stopped then and hugged him. "Thank you, Deacon," she whispered against his chest. "I don't think I could do this without you." She looked up at him. "I'm not sure I can do music anymore without you. I can't even _think_ about music anymore without thinking about you." He looked surprised and she smiled. "Truly. I mean it."

He kissed her. "We're good together, baby. I can see that." He let his hand trail over her hair. "So are we on for Monday night?"

She considered the fact that her father wouldn't be happy about it, but she really didn't care. She was chasing her dream and Deacon was by her side. It was all she could ever want. She smiled and nodded. "I can't wait."

 _ **####**_

When he picked her up, he was glad to see her. He'd worked all weekend, so they hadn't been able to see each other. So he was extra excited to see her that night. They would be doing a set at another club downtown. She got in the truck and waited for him to get in, then gave him a tiny smile. He thought she didn't seem her usual bubbly self, but he thought she was probably just a little nervous. He really wasn't much of a talker anyway, so he was glad to let her sit with her thoughts.

They were about halfway there when she turned to look at him. He glanced over at her. She had a serious look on her face. "What is it, baby?" he asked.

She fidgeted with her hands and then took a deep breath. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she asked.

He frowned. "Like what?"

She shrugged. " _Anything_. I won't ever judge you. Or think badly of you."

He wondered what this was about. "What do you wanna ask me, Rayna?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing really. I just, well, I just wanted you to know you can trust me. And that I love you." She reached out and rubbed his arm.

He looked at her and thought about that. "This about something your father said to you?"

She shook her head but averted her eyes. "No. Of course not. I just" – she looked back at him then – "I just wanted you to know you can. Tell me anything, I mean."

He wasn't sure that was really it, but he didn't want to press her too hard. Not when she was getting ready to go on stage. He tried to smile. "I know, Rayna," he said. He reached over then and squeezed her hand. She smiled back at him and then seemed to relax. He still wondered, though, what brought that on.

* * *

When they got off the stage that night, they were both a little wired. They seemed to be finding a rhythm between the two of them and it had surprised him how much he liked it. They walked over to the bar and he ordered them both root beers.

"Hey there, you two." They both turned towards the sound of Watty's voice. "Good set tonight. Y'all are sounding really fine. Lotta good buzz, about you especially, Rayna." He pointed at her, then gestured for them to follow him over towards the bar. "I've got some news." He looked at her, a little smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "I got you a paying job. At a place in south Nashville. Friday night."

She looked a little stunned. "What?"

"A paying gig, baby!" he said excitedly, pulling her into a hug.

She looked back at Watty. "Are you serious? Not just tips?"

He nodded. "Tips and a percentage of the take for the night." He smiled. "This is the real deal, my little songbird."

She turned to look at him, and he grinned at her, and then back at Watty. "Oh, my God, I can't believe it. Wait." She looked back at him. "Deacon gets to be there too, right?" Watty nodded and then she threw her arms around the older man. "Thank you so much! I promise I'll do a good job."

Watty laughed gently. "I know you will. This is your break. I think the sky's the limit, from now on."


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: I've always had a particular canon on what led to Rayna being kicked out of the house, but as I thought about that this time, it occurred to me that the sequence of events might have been different. I went back and watched the conversation she and Deacon had in the hospital in season 1 and noticed she finally had some clarity on why Lamar had kicked her out, after she knew about Watty. So that's what I used to set this up._

Lamar Wyatt got out of the backseat of his car and walked up the steps. He let himself in the house, going immediately to his study.

"Mr. Wyatt, can I take your jacket?"

He turned to see Vernice standing at the doorway. He smiled. "Of course." He shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to the housekeeper. "I'm not really hungry tonight, Vernice. Some soup would be nice though, maybe around eight."

Vernice nodded. "Yes, sir." Then she scurried off.

He walked over to the side table and poured himself a bourbon. He walked back over to his desk and sat down behind it, leaning back slightly in his chair, sipping on the drink thoughtfully. Albert had called him to let him know Rayna had left again with that ragamuffin Claybourne and they'd ended up at one of the clubs downtown, performing onstage together. He sighed and set down his drink, then got up and walked over to the window, looking out at nothing.

A lot had changed in the past four years, since Virginia had died. He buried himself in his work, after he'd buried her. But she had been running from him when she died and he had struggled with that, struggled with the truth of it. He knew he'd walled himself off, but he had no idea how else to deal with it. Rayna had suffered the most from it and he hadn't known how to comfort her, how to get past his own guilt about what had happened to reach out to his youngest daughter. She'd been lost, he knew that, and she'd eventually turned away from him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, setting his jaw. She was so like her mother, free-spirited and willful, in her own way. He hadn't wanted to hear the country music she loved to listen to, music that reminded her of her mother. It had made him angry, because that was ultimately what had taken Virginia away from him. That and Watty White. He narrowed his eyes.

He knew Rayna had talent, but he couldn't get past his feelings of betrayal and anger to let her know that. He'd hoped she would get tired of it, that it would be just another passing fancy that a young girl had, but if anything, it had gotten stronger. That's when he'd asked Albert to discreetly follow her, see what she was doing and where she went. Albert was good for things like this. When he'd hired him, fresh out of college, he'd seemed ill-suited for a corporate life. But he had a tenacity and a second sense about him that intrigued Lamar. Eventually Albert became the person he relied upon, to gather intelligence, to handle the darker, sketchier side of Wyatt Industry business dealings.

The phone rang and then, after a minute, Vernice came to the door. "Mr. Wyatt, phone for you," she said.

He smiled. "Thank you, Vernice." He walked over and picked up the phone, waiting to hear it click on the other end when she hung up. "Yes?"

"Mr. Wyatt, it's Albert. I just thought you might like to know that Watty White is here. Talking to your daughter and her…friend."

He felt his face heat up and he clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath. "Thank you, Albert." And he hung up. He felt the anger rise up like bile in his throat. He walked over to the desk, picked up his glass, and downed the alcohol, then walked over and poured another glass. Then he went back to sit down in his chair. To wait.

 _ **####**_

Deacon slid his guitar case behind the seat and then jumped into the truck. He leaned over and gave Rayna a quick kiss, before putting his key in the ignition and starting the truck. He looked back over at her. She had a huge smile on her face. It was really the first time she'd stopped talking since Watty told her he'd gotten her a paying gig. He grinned at her. "You excited, baby?" he asked.

She clapped her hands together. "Oh, my God, Deacon, I can still hardly believe it," she cried. "I feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure it's real." And then she did just that and then laughed.

"I think it's real," he said, as he put the truck in gear and headed out of the parking lot.

She reached over and grabbed his arm. "I kind of feel bad though," she said.

He glanced over at her worried face and frowned. "Why?"

"Well, you know, because it should be _you_. You came here first."

He shook his head. "That ain't the way it works all the time, Ray. You gotta be a the right place at the right time and you were."

"But you shouldn't give up your dreams for me, Deacon."

He shook his head. "I won't. But I can help you and I want to."

"Well…." She looked unconvinced. "I guess."

He pulled up to a stop sign. There wasn't anyone behind them, so he reached over and put his finger under her chin. She almost looked like she was going to cry. "Listen. It don't matter how it happens. I'm happy for you. Believe me. And I'll get to be there with you when you stand on that stage."

"I'll pay you."

"You don't gotta do that."

"But I _want_ to. You're giving up a night when _you_ could go somewhere and get discovered. It's the least I can do."

He smiled at her. Sure, he wanted to break out, be the one on stage himself. But there were lots of ways to be successful. Working with her was one of them. "Whatever you want, baby. But just know I'm gonna be right there with you." He could see lights coming up behind them, so he eased out into the intersection. "It'll be okay." He could see she was still watching him, but then she sat back, turned her eyes to look out the windshield, and folded her hands in her lap.

He eased up the driveway and stopped in front of the porch. "You want me to walk you up?"

She looked towards the house, then back at him, and shook her head. "Daddy's home, so I think it's best if you don't." She sighed. "He'll just be mad and he'll probably blame you."

He frowned. "I don't want you to have to take that by yourself." He peered past her out the window, as though he expected Lamar to come charging out of the front door. The lights were off in the front of the house, but the dim light from farther back was visible. The only other light was the porch lights.

She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. He'll be all mad and maybe yell a little and then it'll be over. I'll go upstairs and he'll just stew in his study." She smiled, but it didn't seem like a confident smile. "It's what he always does. He'll probably lecture me about" – she lowered her voice – "following the rules, and I'll just listen and then walk away. I suppose he could ground me. But I hope not." She smiled again, and she seemed more sure that time. She leaned over and kissed him. "This was such a great night and I'm glad I got to do it with you."

She started to pull away, but he put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her back towards him. His lips found hers and he kissed her, slowly and deeply. When he let her go, they were both a little breathless. "I love you, Rayna," he said.

She reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. "I love you, Deacon." She slid over to the door and opened it. "I'll call you tomorrow." She hopped out of the truck and shut the door, then took a few steps back and waved. He felt concerned for a moment and debated whether he should leave or not, but decided she'd be okay. She was both brave and resilient. She had a strong sense of herself and he knew she could stand on her own. He waved back, then turned the car back towards the street.

 _ **####**_

She watched as Deacon's truck headed down the driveway, watching the red taillights until they vanished past the hedges. She stood a moment longer, a chill running down her back, in spite of the warm, sultry summer night. As much as she willed herself to be strong in front of her father, his mercurial nature always made her wary. As she'd gotten older, she had realized how cold and unemotional he could be, about everything. He was cutthroat in business, which is what had made him both powerful and successful. He was an intimidating person, even at home, rarely displaying any warmth or love towards her or her sister. He was always watching, judging, laying down the law, coldly efficient and cutting.

She shivered. _You can stay in my house, but you have to live by my rules._ How many times had he said that to her? Especially since she'd expressed interest in making a career in the music industry. Her mom had always been so encouraging. It was almost like her father was trying to be the opposite. She knew there'd been trouble in the marriage. She'd been old enough to understand the distance and know that the fighting wasn't just the normal arguing of a married couple. She could see how unhappy her mom was, felt the chasm between her parents. She'd had to grow up a lot in the aftermath of her mother's death. She and Tandy had been mostly on their own, with their father so often not home. It had changed the way she looked at the world.

She sighed and then turned, heading for the steps up to the porch. She put her key in the lock and let herself in. Her father's study was dark and the only light she saw came from the direction of the kitchen. She thought Vernice must have been up late or that maybe she'd left it on for her, thinking she might want a glass of water. She hesitated in the foyer. It wasn't terribly late and she was still wired from both the show and Watty's news. She saw a shadow cross the light and then her father appeared. His face was impassive, but she got that same chill down her back she'd had outside. She swallowed and forced a smile on her face. "Hey, Daddy. I was just going up to bed." She took a couple steps towards the stairs.

"I think you and I need to have a little chat first, Rayna." His voice was deceptively calm and his hands were on his waist.

"What about?"

"Where were you tonight?" His eyes narrowed just a bit.

Her heart started beating hard and her mouth felt dry. "I went with Deacon, to hear him play."

Her father smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, really? So you didn't get up on stage with him?"

Now she felt a gnawing in the pit of her stomach. It was clear to her that he knew she had, although she had no idea how. "I did." She decided it was better for her to be honest.

"I thought I told you how I felt about that kind of thing, Rayna."

She took a deep breath. "You did, Daddy, but truthfully, I have no idea why you feel that way. I like to do it and I think I'm pretty good at it. It's not like I'm breaking a law or anything."

"But you're disobeying my direct orders, Rayna. Isn't that true?" She was silent. "I've also told you I don't want you seeing that Claybourne boy and yet you continue to defy me on that as well."

She clenched her hands by her side. "I told you he's nice and treats me nicely. You just won't take the time to get to know him."

He waved his hand at her. "He's neither here nor there to me, Rayna," he said, his voice getting louder. "Except that he is enabling you with this folly of yours and pulls you into a life that's beneath you. I'm going to tell you one last time. Don't see him again and don't disobey my rules about going out and singing, or whatever it is you're doing."

That made her mad. "I'm _performing_ , Daddy! People _want_ to see me perform on stage. I get tips for singing on stage. Good tips. And I'm going to be an artist one day, singing on big stages in front of thousands of people. Making records that will be on the radio."

He lifted his hand and shook his finger at her, his face turning red with anger. "You will _not_ do that, young lady! I forbid you to pursue this!"

"Well, it's too late. I'm already doing it. I've already got someone in the music business helping me." She took a step towards him. "In fact, I'm going to be doing a performance next week and getting paid for it. Watty got that for me. And you're not going to stop me from doing it!"

"You still live under my roof, young lady. I can damn well stop you."

"No, you're not!"

He walked towards her, almost menacingly, and she took a step back. "If you think you're going to get up on stage and embarrass this family, the Wyatt name, you are wrong! I know you use your mother's name, and I won't stand for that either!"

"She would _want_ me to do this! She would _support_ me!" She stood her ground. "I'm going to do this, Daddy, whether you like it or not."

His face changed then, from angry to resolute, the thin, sinister smile back. "If that's the case, then you no longer are welcome to live in this house. You can pack your bags and get out."

She was stunned. "What?"

"You heard me, Rayna. If you continue with this, you no longer live here. You have ten minutes to pack your bags and leave."

She couldn't believe he actually meant that, but she also believed he thought she would back down. She glared at him and, without a word, went upstairs to her room. She stood in the middle of the room for a moment, wondering what to do. She could feel herself shaking. _Surely he doesn't mean it._ She decided to test it. She went to her closet and pulled out two suitcases, filling them up with as much as she could. Then she carried them downstairs to the foyer. Her father wasn't there, but the doors to his study were closed and she saw a thin line of light under them. She felt tears in her eyes, but she blinked them back, straightened her back, and walked up to the door. She took one last look at the study doors, turned and looked around the foyer, at the dining room, the hallway to the den and kitchen, the grand staircase, and the enormous Oriental rug in front of her. She felt an ache in her chest, but she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Then she walked out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

 _ **####**_

He sat there in his study, only the desk lamp providing light. He had a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He was sure Rayna would come to her senses. She was just sixteen after all. Where would she go? She'd never had to take care of herself before and, he was sure, even if she did decide to be stubborn and walk out, she'd be back. She'd go spend the night with Tandy, think better of her choices, and come back home.

He heard the thump of suitcases on the staircase and then her boots tapping across the floor. He waited. Then he heard the slam of the door. He smiled to himself, taking a sip of whiskey. She'd be back the next day. And then he'd make sure Watty White paid for his involvement in Rayna's life. His smile quickly left his face as he thought about the other man, the man who'd turned his beloved Virginia away from him. His eyes narrowed and his lips formed a thin line.

 _ **####**_

She walked around to where her car was parked and opened the trunk, putting her suitcases inside. She got in the car and started it, backing out and then heading down the driveway. When she came to the street, she stopped. The adrenaline that had gotten her this far seemed to drain away. She thought back to the look on her father's face. _If you continue with this, you no longer live here._ She felt herself start to shake and her heart hurt. Even though it had been four years since her mom had died, the house had still held her memory inside, and it was hard for Rayna to think about walking away. Plus she had no idea where to go or what she would do.

She considered that this was likely the exact thing her father expected, that she would be too afraid to really and truly leave home. He probably thought she'd go to Tandy's and then beg to come back. But she wasn't sure she wanted to do that. It would mean giving up her dreams and she still had no idea why he was so hell bent on her doing that. She was at a crossroads and she needed to make a decision. So she took a deep breath and turned out onto the street.

* * *

She parked at Tandy's apartment and walked up the steps. She knocked and waited. It was a weekend night, so she could be out on a date or with friends. It was almost eleven, but that was still early for college students. Although a lot of her sister's friends had gone home for the summer break, there were some who stayed, and Rayna knew Tandy had an active social life. She knocked again. Then she sighed and leaned back against the door. She had no idea what to do. She had no idea when, or if, Tandy would be back. She couldn't just stand there all night waiting.

She finally walked back down the walkway and down the steps to the parking lot. She got in her car, thinking about what to do next. Finally she put the key in the ignition, started the car, and headed for the road.

 _ **####**_

He was sitting on his couch, his guitar on his lap, when the knock came at the door. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just past eleven-thirty. He frowned. It was late for visitors. The knock came again and then he heard, "Deacon?" _Rayna._ He set aside his guitar and got up, heading for the door. He opened it, surprised to see her standing there.

"Rayna, what are you doing here?" She just looked at him for a moment, then burst into tears. He reached out for her, pulling her into the apartment. "Baby, what happened? What's going on?" He held her close and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. He let her cry, rubbing her back, until finally she pulled back and looked up at him, her face tear-stained.

"Daddy kicked me out," she said, her voice tiny.

"What?" He was shocked.

"Somehow he found out about us singing tonight and he told me I had to stop. I told him I had a paying gig and he got even madder. He said if I didn't stop, I couldn't live there anymore. And he gave me ten minutes to pack." Her face got all screwed up then and she started to cry again. He took her back in his arms and held her, running his hand over her hair, trying to soothe her. She grabbed his shirt in her hand and took a deep, shaky breath. "I went to Tandy's, but she wasn't home," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him then. "I didn't know where else to go."

He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "It's okay. You can stay here." He tried to sound calmer than he felt. He had truly not expected something like this and he was concerned that it wouldn't end well. He felt sure Lamar Wyatt had no intention of allowing his daughter to just leave and go out on her own. She was just sixteen. Almost seventeen, but still, she was a minor, technically not able to make decisions on her own. "You want something to drink?" he asked.

She stepped back and wiped at her face. "Maybe some water?" He nodded, then went to the kitchen and got a glass, filling it with water. He brought it back and she was still standing where he left her, looking a little shell-shocked.

He took her arm. "Let's sit down, baby," he said. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and still a little red from crying, her face blotchy. She let him lead her over to the couch and they sat. Then he handed her the glass. She held it for a moment, then lifted it to her lips and took a tiny sip. She set the glass down and looked around the room, her eyes settling on his guitar.

She looked at him, her eyes sad. "You were working on something," she said. She looked at the notebook on the coffee table and reached out to touch it. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No, no, it's okay. It wasn't working out that great anyway." He gave her a lopsided smile. After a second, she gave him a little smile. He reached out and ran his hand over her hair. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged and looked down at her hands in her lap. "I don't know what else to say. He told me I couldn't live there anymore if I wanted to follow my dream." She looked up at him. "He kicked me out." She sounded like she still could hardly believe it. "Kicked me out of the house. Who does that to their daughter, Deacon? Who just throws away their daughter like that? I mean, if I'd done something terrible, I could understand him not liking it, but all I want to do is sing. What's so terrible about that?" She spread her hands, looking confused.

He shook his head. "I don't know, Ray. Don't seem like the kinda thing you'd get upset about, but didn't you tell me he'd been gone a lot? Maybe he wanted you to stay around when he was home."

She frowned. "I don't think that's it. When he was home he would shut himself up in his study." She looked thoughtful. "He did say something tonight about my mom, that he didn't want me using her name. She was the one who always wanted me to sing and I know she would support me." She sighed. "I think I'm just too tired to think about it anymore."

"I'll sleep on the couch. You take the bed."

She shook her head, holding her hand up. "Deacon, no. I'm not gonna let you do that again."

He stood up and she looked up at him. "It's settled." He put his hands on his hips. "You got a suitcase or something?" She nodded. "Is it in your car?" She nodded again. "Gimme your keys. I'll get it."

She got up then and walked over to where she'd dropped her purse and pulled out her keys. She turned and handed them to him. "Here," she said. He reached for the keys but she didn't let go immediately. She looked up into his eyes. "Thank you."

He breathed in, then put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "I'm glad you came." He slid the keys from her hand and stepped over to the door. "I'll be right back." He walked out onto the walkway, closing the door behind him. He stood at the rail, looking down at the parking lot, at her car. He breathed in and out slowly. He didn't know what this meant, if she'd end up going back home or what. His heart was beating hard and he knew having her stay the night would be hard, like it had been the last time, and probably not a good idea. She was in a fragile state. He loved her so much, but he didn't want to scare her. He smiled a little, thinking to himself that she was a pretty feisty girl, but he knew she was naïve in some ways and he felt protective. He breathed in again and then headed for the stairs to get her suitcase.

 _ **####**_

She started to shake again. She couldn't decide if she was scared or hurt or just angry. It was probably a bit of all three. She wouldn't go back. She'd decided that in the car on the way to Tandy's. Not on her own. Probably not even if her father apologized. She needed to do this for herself and she had come to realize that, living her comfortable life, she hadn't been tested enough. She hadn't lived a life. This was her chance. She still wasn't sure what to do the next day, but she would think about that then. On this night, she felt wrung out, and she needed to sleep.

She looked up when the door opened. Deacon came in carrying both of her suitcases. She jumped up. "Oh, they're so heavy, I know," she said.

He shook his head. "Not really." He set them down over against the wall opposite his bed. "I figured I'd bring 'em both in, since I didn't know what you'd need."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you. And thank you for letting me stay. I promise I'll leave in the morning."

"You don't got to. You can stay as long as you need to."

She shook her head. "I know you don't have a lot of space." She could feel herself blush. "And I should probably stay with Tandy anyway. I just didn't want to wait, you know, in the dark." It occurred to her then that if he hadn't been at his apartment, she wouldn't have known what to do next or where to go, so she was just grateful he was there.

He smiled. "I'm glad you came." He looked at the couch. "Look, I gotta work in the morning, so I'm gonna sleep out here and I'll be as quiet as I can in the morning. Sleep as long as you want."

She suddenly felt a rush of anxiety, thinking again about the circumstances that had brought her here. She clasped her hands together. "Will you…will you sleep with me?" she asked, hesitantly.

He looked taken aback. "What? No, baby, I ain't gonna take advantage…."

She shook her head. "No, I don't mean that. I mean just maybe hold me?" She was embarrassed that tears started to roll down her cheeks again. "I just feel…." She didn't know how to explain how alone she felt and started to cry again.

He walked over to her and took her in his arms. "Yeah, okay. If it'll help you sleep." She looked up at him and nodded.

* * *

The bed was small, just a single, so he was pressed tight against her back, his arm around her waist. She couldn't help but think about how his body felt, curved against her own, and how his breath felt against the back of her neck. But she also felt the most safe and protected she'd felt all night. She fell asleep surprisingly quickly and when she woke up the next morning, he was gone. She rolled over and got up from the bed. Then sun was shining, she could see through the blinds. He'd left a note on the kitchen counter. _There's coffee made and some cereal if you want it. Let me know what you decide to do. Love, Deacon._

She put the note down and smiled to herself. She decided not to have cereal and turned off the coffeemaker. She took her suitcases down to her car, one by one. Then she left him a note at the bottom of his. _I'm going to Tandy's. I'll call you. Thank you for everything. Love, Rayna._ She made up the bed, then picked up her purse and headed for the door. She looked around the tiny apartment, thinking it had been, for the second time, a port in a storm for her. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe it would be again. She opened the door, turning the lock on the inside, and then left.


	22. Chapter 22

He hardly slept. She'd surprised him when she showed up at his door, but he had still been glad to see her. He had felt such a mix of emotions – anger at her father for kicking her out, worry about what she would do, protective of her. She had still seemed so tense when he'd finally gotten her to go to bed. And then she wanted him to hold her. He had panicked a little, not wanting to take advantage of her situation, so he was glad she wasn't asking for more. She had still been shaking a little when he settled himself behind her on the bed and put his arm around her, but she had quickly fallen into what he assumed was an exhausted sleep.

He had dozed most of the night and finally got up as the sun started to lighten the apartment. She had made a little noise but had not woken up. He took a quick shower and changed clothes. She was still sleeping soundly, probably would for a while. He made coffee, pouring some in a travel mug for himself, and then he wrote her a note. He stood at the end of the bed for a minute, watching her sleep, then finally left the apartment, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

He was still thinking about her, halfway through his shift at the diner, worried about what would happen to her next. Would she go home? He thought she probably should, but he knew she was stubborn about her career. He walked over to the next table, setting his bus tray on the edge. He knew her father was against her performing, although he didn't understand why. And she, of course, was just as stubborn. They were two very strong people, determined to do things their own way. He wondered if she'd still be there when he got home or would have gone back to Belle Meade.

"Claybourne? Table ain't gonna clear itself," came the voice of the front-of-the-house manager, as he walked past him. He looked back and then down, realizing he'd just been standing there. He shook his head, to get rid of his musings, and concentrated on clearing the table. But, for the rest of his shift, his mind wasn't far from the pretty, spunky redhead who'd captured his heart. He knew she was trying to be brave and he loved her all the more for it.

 _ **####**_

She pulled into the parking lot at Tandy's apartment. She sat for a few minutes in her car, thinking about the events of the past twenty-four hours. There had been such highs, like the set she and Deacon had done, capped off by Watty's surprise news of a paying gig. She'd lost sight of that a little, in the wake of what had happened when she got home, but she got excited all over again, just thinking about it. She and Deacon would need to work on a set list, one that would really get an audience excited and get her the next paying gig. She knew she still had a lot of hard work ahead of her before she really made it. _If_ she made it. She knew it was always a long shot, but she was convinced that her hard work would pay off in the end. In fact, she was counting on it.

Then she thought about the confrontation with her father. It was the worst fight they'd ever had and she still didn't understand why it had had to happen. It had felt like he was angry with her and she didn't know why, didn't know what she had done to make him so angry. She had a lump in her throat then and felt like crying. She didn't regret walking out, but she just wished she knew why it had all mattered so much to him. She had adored him when she was growing up and now she felt like she no longer knew him.

She looked up at Tandy's apartment and hoped she was there. She was glad Deacon had been home and that he'd let her stay overnight, but she also knew her feelings for him confused her. She wasn't sure what he might expect from her, in spite of him saying he wouldn't do anything she didn't want. She just wasn't sure what that was, especially after everything Tandy had said. She did think that Deacon loved her and would be sweet to her, but she was still a little afraid of that. She took a deep breath and got out of her car.

She walked quickly across the parking lot, then up the stairs. She slowed her pace as she got closer to Tandy's door. When she got there, she stood in front of it for a moment, not sure why. She felt nervous, for some reason. Maybe it was because it seemed like Tandy and their father had gotten closer, in the years since their mother's death. While Rayna had let herself get wrapped up in the music, Tandy had graduated and started college, majoring in business, working summers at Wyatt Industries. She hesitated another moment. _But Tandy's my sister. First and foremost, she's my sister._ They'd grown up, thick as thieves, holding onto each other in the aftermath of Virginia Wyatt's death. Tandy had supported her dreams, maybe a little more hesitantly than their mom, but she'd taken her to the Bluebird, to the Exit/In, and other places. She took a deep breath and raised her hand, then knocked on the door, and waited.

When the door opened, Tandy looked surprised to see her. "Rayna, what are you doing here?" she asked. Rayna had felt mostly brave up to this point, but seeing her sister suddenly overwhelmed her. The tears she'd been holding inside suddenly welled up in her eyes and she felt them spill over onto her cheeks. Tandy's eyes widened and she opened the door further. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She reached for Rayna and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her. Rayna felt embarrassed that she couldn't stop crying and when Tandy put her arms around her, she sobbed into her sister's shoulder.

Tandy led her over to the couch and they sat down, Rayna still crying. Tandy put her hands on her arms and looked at her with concern, then reached up to smooth her hair off her face. "Rayna, what's going on?" She grabbed a tissue and handed it to her sister.

Rayna wiped at her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She clasped her hands together in her lap and breathed in again, then out. "Daddy..." She could hear her voice start to shake and she breathed in and out again. "Daddy kicked me out."

Tandy looked horrified. "What? Are you sure?"

Rayna frowned. "Yes, I'm sure. When I got home last night, we had a horrible fight and he told me if I was going to keep performing onstage, I couldn't live at home anymore. He told me I had to leave."

Tandy still looked horrified. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure he didn't really mean that." She was shaking her head.

Rayna sighed. "He did, Tandy. He gave me ten minutes to pack." She straightened her back, trying to seem more in control than she really felt. "He didn't try to stop me."

Tandy put her hand over her heart. "I just find it hard…oh, dear lord," she said, swallowing hard. "I just don't, well, I don't know what to say." Then she frowned. "Where did you stay last night?"

Rayna looked down at her lap. "I came here first, but you weren't home. And I didn't know when you'd get back."

Tandy put a finger under Rayna's chin and forced her sister to look at her. "Where did you stay last night, Rayna?"

Rayna knew Tandy would be angry, even though she hadn't done anything wrong. She raised her chin up. "I went to Deacon's."

 _ **####**_

Tandy felt her head spinning. She knew she needed to keep her emotions under control, try to help navigate her sister through whatever this was. She was astonished to find out that their father had kicked her out of the house. She needed to talk to him, find out what was really going on. She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea that he would kick a sixteen year old out into the world. And then the perhaps even more alarming idea that she had sought out Deacon. Again. She focused back on Rayna, who was sitting there looking so small and fragile. "Sweetheart, tell me exactly what happened," she said, trying to stay calm and in control.

Rayna sighed. "I came home, Daddy and I had fight about my performing, and he told me I couldn't stay. That I had ten minutes to pack up and leave."

Tandy felt her heart beating hard and her mouth felt dry, but she knew she couldn't get hysterical. "What did you argue about?"

"He was mad that I'd gone out and somehow he knew I'd been on stage." She reached for Tandy's hand and tried to smile. "I got offered a paying job, Tandy. I mean, a _real_ paying job. Not just tips."

Tandy didn't quite know what to say to that. "Was that all?" she asked. "Just that you'd been on stage?"

Rayna shrugged. "I guess that I'd done it with Deacon, because he doesn't like him, and he went on and on about how I had to live by his rules. You know." She sighed again and then her lip started to quiver. "He said I was embarrassing this family and that it was wrong of me to use Mom's name on stage. And that's when he said if I didn't follow his rules, I had to leave." She grabbed Tandy's hands. "I really didn't think he meant it. I mean, he's gotten mad before, but not like that. I went upstairs and packed. I thought when I came downstairs he'd say he didn't mean it and I'd still be mad at him, but we'd get over it. But he was in his study with the door closed."

Tandy considered all that. She knew their father didn't want Rayna pursuing a music career and, while she knew it could be a tough road for her sister and there were certainly no guarantees she'd be successful, she couldn't understand Lamar's disdain for it. It had been a constant theme ever since Rayna started getting more serious about her music. She knew Rayna was talented – that was obvious – and people seemed to respond to her singing. Tandy knew she was biased, but she thought Rayna had what it took. She took a deep breath. "Don't you think you should go home?" she asked. "I bet Daddy regrets what happened last night."

Rayna scowled and shook her head. "No. You didn't see him, Tandy. He was dead serious. And if he can't support me and my dream, well, then I don't want to live there. I can do it on my own."

"Rayna, sweetie, you're just sixteen…." She knew her sister thought she was all grown up. But she wasn't completely sure when Rayna had gotten so stubborn and determined.

"Almost seventeen," Rayna interjected.

"That's still not very old, especially not to be out on your own. And what about school?"

Rayna shrugged. "I don't need school to be a country music star."

Tandy tried to smile encouragingly. "Sweetie, I know that's your dream, and I support that, but you also have to be realistic. What if it doesn't happen? Or what if it isn't all you hoped for? Finishing school would be a good thing."

"I don't care about that. But I'll get a GED, if it makes you happy."

That wasn't what Tandy wanted, but she decided to deal with the other problem. "Rayna, you can't stay at Deacon's anymore. You know that."

"But you weren't here," she said. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Well, I, um." She didn't really have a good solution for that. "You should have gone back home." Rayna started to frown and Tandy squeezed her hand. "I know you have feelings for Deacon, Rayna, but he's really a man. With experience. And he could take advantage of someone like you."

Rayna pulled her hand away and got up from the couch, an angry scowl on her face. She walked away, her hands crossed over her waist. "You're as bad as Daddy," she said. "You don't even know him. He's not like that. He's been nothing but a gentleman. He's never tried anything like that with me and he respects me."

Tandy recognized she needed to back down a little on that. Rayna was already in an agitated state and, considering what had happened, might do something she shouldn't. Like run back to Deacon Claybourne. She got up and walked over to her sister, putting her hands on her arms. "Look," she said, attempting to change the subject. "You can stay with me as long as you need to."

Rayna turned and threw her arms around Tandy's neck. "Thank you," she cried. "I knew I could count on you!"

Tandy hugged her back. "I _am_ going to talk to Daddy, though," she said. "I need to know what the hell he was thinking."

 _ **####**_

Lamar poured himself a bourbon and turned back to face Tandy. She had a stern look on her face that made him smile. Both girls had Virginia's spunk, although Tandy was definitely more pragmatic and measured, like him. He wasn't surprised either that Rayna had run to her. He'd expected as much. He waved his free hand in the air. "She'll come around, Tandy," he said. "She's too young to be on her own. You and I both know that."

Tandy was leaning against his credenza, her arms crossed over her waist. "She's pretty determined. She doesn't intend to back down."

He shrugged. "She will eventually. She can't support herself. Who's going to hire a sixteen year old?"

"Almost seventeen," she reminded him.

He chuckled. "No real difference." He paced the room for a moment, then turned back to her. "She has no real life experience. She's grown up being waited on, having everything done for her."

She smirked. "She's tougher than you think, Daddy. She's basically been on her own since I left for school and she's got a pretty good sense of what she wants. Which is what I really don't understand. Why are you so dead set against her doing this?"

He frowned. "Because it's folly, Tandy. What makes you think she would be the one who would be successful? There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of young people who come here every year, starry eyed and filled with dreams of grandeur. Standing on a stage, in front of tens of thousands of people. Only a few make it."

"Well, what makes you think she won't?"

"The odds are against her."

She hesitated a second before she spoke. "But she's crossed paths with someone who's very connected in the business. Someone who could really help her." He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "Watty White. He got her a paying job, did you know that?"

He felt a slow burn at the mention of Watty White. It had been one more reason to nip this hobby of Rayna's before it gained traction. "One paying job doesn't mean she's going to be a star," he said, his voice low and lethal.

"He'll get her more."

Lamar turned and poured more bourbon in his glass. He noticed his hand was shaking a bit and the liquid splashed onto the tray. He turned back around and scowled darkly. "Watty White has no business around Rayna," he said.

"Why not?"

His lips narrowed and he tightened his jaw. "He turns heads with flowery words. He did that with your mother. Makes promises."

She looked surprised and raised her eyebrows. "Mom?" she asked.

He stopped, not sure exactly what to say, deciding on a variation of the truth. "Watty White turned your mother's head. Fed her tales of what life would be like on the road. Made her forget her responsibilities here, to you girls. He'll do the same to Rayna." He slammed his glass down on his desk. "She needs to come home and forget this nonsense."

 _ **####**_

Rayna was nervous. About as nervous as she'd ever felt. She kept pacing back and forth, wringing her hands. She stopped and turned to look at Deacon, who was sitting against the wall in the small dressing room, watching her with an amused smile on his face. She sighed. "I wish I smoked," she said.

He looked surprised. "Why?" he asked.

"I don't know. Somehow I just think a cigarette would make me feel more relaxed."

He leaned down and pulled something out of a side pocket of his guitar case. He held out what looked like a slim silver thermos. "Here. Try this."

She took a step closer and frowned. "What is it?"

He pointed it at her. "Liquid courage. Just try it."

She took the small container in her hand hesitantly. She looked at him and he nodded at the container. She screwed off the top and held it up to her nose, sniffing. "Oh, gosh, what is that?" she asked, making a face. It smelled almost metallic and a little woodsy.

"Just take a sip." He nodded at her. "It's okay. Just a sip."

She put her lips on the opening and tipped the container up. Whatever it was tasted like smoke, with a sharp metallic edge. It burned and she started coughing. He got up and took the container as she continued to cough until tears filled her eyes. When she finally stopped coughing, she frowned. "What was that?" she choked out.

"Whiskey," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't think I like it," she said.

He chuckled. "It _is_ an acquired taste, that's for sure." He nodded towards her. "Don't it make you feel a little warm inside?"

She thought about that. Once the burn was gone, there was kind of a warm feeling in her stomach. "Kind of," she said. She frowned. "How did you get this?"

He shrugged. "There's always someone who'll give you something on the sly. No big deal." He handed back the container. "Take one more sip."

She wasn't sure she wanted to, but if he thought it was okay, maybe it was. She took the container back and took another sip, wincing at the bite, now that she knew what to expect. Now she really was starting to feel a warmth that seemed to flow through her arms and legs. "Maybe you're right," she said. "I am feeling more relaxed." She handed the container back to him and watched as he took a long swallow. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, but that was the only sign that he felt the same burn. He screwed the top back on and put it back in his guitar case.

He stood up and reached for her hand. She took it, feeling a thrill run up her spine as she felt the warmth of his skin and the callouses on his fingers. He smiled down at her. "Let's go give 'em a helluva show, Ray," he said.

She smiled up at him and then they walked out towards the stage together.

 _ **####**_

The next day, they met at the park. He was waiting for her, sitting on the picnic table, and he watched as she walked across the grass towards him. She sat down next to him, leaning forward a bit. Then she looked over at him. "Did that really happen last night?" she asked.

He gave her a little smile. "You mean, did you go out on stage and kill it, in front of a place full of people? And then get paid at the end of the night? And get asked back?" She still looked like she couldn't quite believe it. She kept wanting to pinch herself the night before, sure it was all a dream. She nodded and he chuckled. "Then yeah, it really happened. And you heard Watty. There'll be more."

She put her hands over her heart. "I just still can't believe it. I could hardly sleep last night, you know?"

He nodded. "I _do_ know." He leaned over and kissed her. "You done great, baby. You're on your way."

She grabbed his arm, looking very serious. "You're still gonna do this with me, aren't you? I mean, I know you came here to have your own career, but I hope you'll still be my guitar player, at least for a while."

He'd thought a lot about that. It was true that he'd come here originally for his own career. At least one that included himself and Beverly. But that was never about standing behind Beverly, being her guitar player and letting her front them. To be with Rayna meant that he would be taking a step back, literally as well as figuratively. Letting her be the one to shine and maybe never getting a chance at his own dreams. It was why he hadn't been able to sleep.

He looked deep in her eyes and took her hand. She looked anxious as she waited for him to speak. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'll be there with you. Long as you need me," he said, and meant it. Having his own career was important, but he had known, since the moment he'd met her, that she was his destiny. She smiled, that beautiful smile that lit up everything around her, even when the sun was shining brightly.

"Just when you can," she said. "I want you to follow your dreams too, Deacon. I want us to do it together."

He slid closer to her and put his arm around her, kissing her gently on the lips. "We will, Ray. A hundred percent together." He looked into her eyes and bit down on his lip. "You and the music, you're the same, Rayna. I want us to do it all together."

She put her hands on his face and drew him in for a kiss. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling. "I love you, Deacon Claybourne," she said softly.

He smiled back at her. "I love you, Rayna Jaymes."

 _ **####**_

It was late on a Sunday morning. Tandy had left to go to church with their father, trying to get her to go too, but Rayna had said no. It had been a late night, with yet another paying show, and she had been exhausted when Deacon finally brought her home. When Tandy left, she had rolled over on the couch and closed her eyes, hoping for a little more sleep, but it was elusive.

Finally she got up, folding the light blanket and setting it at the end of the couch, on top of her pillow. She appreciated Tandy letting her stay, but the couch was not the most comfortable place to sleep. It made her think about Deacon sleeping on his couch that first time she'd stayed at his apartment. She smiled to herself, thinking that was _really_ an uncomfortable couch. She took a shower and stood in front of the mirror, drying her hair. She got dressed and went into the small kitchen and made tea. She walked back to the couch and sat, crossing her legs underneath her and sipped on her tea thoughtfully. The next day was her birthday – she'd be seventeen – and she had promised Tandy she would go that week and check on getting her GED. Tandy really had hoped she'd go back to school, but Rayna just wanted to move on with her life. Eventually she'd need to get her own place, she knew, but for the time being it worked.

She was meeting Deacon at the park later in the afternoon. He was working his diner job that day, but would get off after lunch. She smiled to herself, thinking about him. Having him on stage with her made her feel so confident. She still wondered sometimes if he might want to go out on his own – and she had decided, if he did, she would encourage it – but she was so grateful that he was almost as invested in her dreams as he was his own.

* * *

She was trying to straighten up the apartment, earn her keep, when the door opened and Tandy walked in. She looked up and smiled. "Hey, you're home," she said, but then she noticed an odd look on her sister's face. Tandy stepped inside and then was followed by their father. Rayna's smile vanished and she frowned.

"Don't be mad, Rayna," Tandy said, looking apologetic. Rayna merely picked up her mug from earlier and walked into the kitchen, without saying a word.

Lamar walked up to the kitchen counter. "Rayna, I want you to come home," he said. "It's time to put aside this foolishness."

She stood across from him, her hands flat on the counter. "And just what foolishness is that, Daddy?" she asked, trying to be cool while she was shaking inside. She could see Tandy standing off behind him, twisting her hands together.

"You can't stay here forever," he said. "And you're not going to be able to live on your own with whatever meager earnings you're getting right now."

"You don't know that."

He smiled, one of those smiles that didn't reach his eyes. "I _do_ know that, young lady. I make it my business to know things like that." The smile faded a bit. "That Watty White might have promised you the moon, but just know he's not going to be able to deliver that."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "How can you know that? He thinks I'm very talented. And I'm getting more paid performances all the time." She huffed. "I'm not coming home, Daddy. I'd rather live on the street than do that." She walked quickly around the counter and grabbed her purse and keys. She looked pointedly at Tandy. "You should never have brought him here." She went to the door, pulled it open and walked out, letting it slam behind her. She ran down the steps and across the parking lot to her car, breathing in and out to calm herself.

She sat in the car for a moment, then started it and drove out of the parking lot. She was still shaking a little bit with anger, and that caused her to press down a little too hard on the accelerator, but once she got on the highway, she breathed out slowly and felt herself begin to calm down. By the time she got off the highway in East Nashville, she was feeling better. She felt relieved, when she turned into the parking lot at Deacon's apartment, to see his truck there. She parked and made her way across the parking lot and up the stairs to his apartment. She knocked on the door and waited.

When he opened the door and she saw his face, she felt the tears bubble up and she struggled to keep them at bay. "Can I…can I come in?" she asked.

He had a frown of concern on his face. "'Course you can," he said and stepped aside to let her in. When he closed the door, he turned to her. "What's going on?"

She considered what to say, then finally decided to just tell the truth. "I need a new place to live," she said. "Tandy brought my father over and so I need to get out of there." She clasped her hands together tightly, hoping he wouldn't turn her away.

 _ **####**_

She looked like she did every time she showed up on his doorstep – scared and fragile. So opposite from all the other times he saw her. She was the strongest person he knew, but she was still young enough that having the rug pulled out from under her was hard. He pulled her into his arms. "You can stay here, baby," he whispered against her hair. "Long as you like." He led her over to the couch and they sat. He took her hands in his and looked at her, waiting.

She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I'm sorry I keep running here, but I don't really know where else to go," she said.

He shook his head. "It's okay. I don't mind."

She looked around the tiny studio. "But you don't have enough room really. I know that." She looked back at him. "So maybe just until I can find something else."

He smiled at her encouragingly. "I don't mind you being here. Truth be told, I kinda like it."

She smiled then, the first smile since she'd showed up. "Really?"

He put his hands on her face and rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you, baby. I'd do anything for you."

She smiled a little wider. "Even sleep on this awful couch?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Even sleep on this awful couch."

She sighed then. "I'm gonna have to go back and get my stuff."

He frowned. "Do you gotta do it today?"

She smiled. "Well, let's see. I don't have a toothbrush or shampoo or pajamas or a change of clothes or…."

He laughed. "Well, I do got shampoo, but we can go get the rest." He took her hands. "Or go back to your sister's and get your stuff."

She breathed in, then let it out. "I don't know. I do need to get it though."

He smiled. "Tell you what. Let's go hang out at the park for a bit, then I'll drive you over if you want. How 'bout that?"

She leaned in towards him and kissed him. "I love you." She sat back. "And thank you."

* * *

When they arrived at Tandy's, she looked around the parking lot. "No one here," she said to him. "I'll go up and get my things." She started to get out of the truck and he grabbed her arm. She looked back at him.

"I'll help you," he said. She smiled her thanks.

They both got out of the truck and walked up to Tandy's apartment. Rayna let them in. Deacon looked around. It was almost as small as his apartment, but it looked more inviting. Rayna headed for the bathroom. He stood in the middle of the living room space and watched as she hurried out with her arms full of things. He heard her open a suitcase and dump what she had into it. He could hear activity in the room and he assumed she was getting her clothes together. A few minutes later she came out with a suitcase, setting it just outside the bedroom door. She went back into the bedroom and brought out the other.

He had walked over and picked up the first suitcase and held his hand out for the other. "I can do it," she said.

"I'm sure you can," he said. "But let me have it." He smiled at her and she shrugged, letting him take the second suitcase from her. He then followed her out the door and down the steps. He put both suitcases in the bed of his truck, as she got in. He let himself into the driver's side and then reached for her hand. She looked back at him and he could see the strain in her eyes. "It's gonna be okay, baby. I promise." She just nodded.

* * *

She fell asleep in his arms that night and every night after that. She wouldn't let him sleep on the couch and they both got used to sleeping close together. He wanted her so badly. Touching her skin drove him crazy, but he wasn't going to do anything she wasn't okay with.

One morning, he woke up with his arm around her waist, as usual. He could smell her shampoo from the day before and he could feel her soft skin. He slid his hand under the waistband of the little shorts she was wearing. She made a soft noise and he stopped. She rolled over then, to face him, her eyes still puffy from sleep, a dreamy little smile on her lips. She ran her hand down his arm and then looked up at him. "Make love to me," she whispered.

He caught his breath. "I…."

"Please," she said. "I'm ready." He kissed her gently, at first, then a little more insistently, and she responded. Finally he rolled her onto her back underneath him. He looked at her again, a question in his eyes. She smiled. "I'm ready," she repeated.

 _ **####**_

In the end, it did hurt, just like Tandy said. But he'd been so gentle, taking things so slowly, that she'd hardly noticed. When she had winced at the momentary sharp pain as he entered her, he'd stopped and looked at her with fear in his eyes. _Did I hurt you, baby?_ She had smiled up at him, feeling a little teary, not so much from pain, but from how much he cared about her. She had shaken her head. _I'm fine._

The second time was better than the first and she knew every successive time would be even better. She was in the arms of the man she loved, a man who loved her. She had known it, deep in her soul, back in the very beginning. They had been meant to be together and she knew, with a certainty she'd never had about anything else, that he would be the one constant in her life, for the rest of her life. She had no choice but to choose him, no matter what else happened.

He was holding her in his arms, in the tiny bed in his tiny studio apartment, looking down at her. It might not have been a lot, but it was exactly where she wanted to be. She smiled. "I love you, Deacon," she said.

He leaned down and kissed her. "I love you, Rayna."

* * *

He sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet up around his waist. She slid up next to him, pulling the other side of the sheet up to cover her chest. At this point, there was no reason to be modest, but somehow she still felt that way, a little. Deacon Claybourne was the first – and only – man to ever see her naked, to see her this intimately, and for a moment that completely overwhelmed her. She felt a little sore between her legs and her breasts still felt tingly from when he'd put his mouth on them. She could feel herself blush and, when she looked up, he was smiling.

"You okay, Ray?" he asked, stroking her cheek lightly with his fingers.

She was so captivated by him that at first all she could do was smile and nod. Then she took a deep breath. "I…I didn't know it would be…like that," she said finally.

He looked a little concerned. "Was it not okay?" he asked, sounding worried.

She shook her head. "No, no, it was actually wonderful. I mean, my sister told me it might not be that great the first time." She smiled at him then. "But it _was_ great. It felt amazing." She knew she had nothing to compare it to, but somehow she knew, even if she ever did this with anyone else, it wouldn't be the same. She could feel herself blush again. "Tandy said it would all be different when it's someone you loved." She looked at him anxiously.

He let his fingers trail over her cheek again, then leaned in to kiss her gently. When he sat back, he smiled. "She's right," he said. "This was the first time I done it with someone I loved and she's right. It's way better." She felt breathless as she watched him. His eyes got a little damp and he bit down on his lip, as though he were trying to hold tight to his emotions. He finally breathed in deeply. "I see us doing this for the rest of our lives."

She really did feel overcome then, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. She held the sheet up with one hand and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his, then sitting back and smiling. "I do too," she said.

He smiled then, a big, happy smile. "Sing something for me, Rayna," he said.

 _ **####**_

He was afraid to move. One reason was that the bed was not really big enough for two people. Even though Rayna was a slender thing, there was barely enough room for both of them. She was facing him and he had his arm draped over her waist. She looked at him, with dreamy eyes and a lazy smile. He had one leg between hers and he was propped up on his elbow, looking down at her. She was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen in his whole life. That she was also sweet and talented and strong was a bonus. He'd never known anyone quite like her and he was sure he never would.

He moved his hand to smooth her tousled hair. Her eyes were a clear and sparkling blue. The freckles across her nose and cheeks almost seemed to dance. He leaned in then and kissed her. She kissed him back, resting her palm against his chest. After a moment, he pulled his lips from hers and looked into her eyes. He could see her need and desire. He had wanted to give her time to adjust to what had just happened, time to take it all in and process it, but his own need was too great.

He pulled her underneath him and she lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck, telling him with her eyes that she was ready for him again. Then she opened her legs and he sank into her with a satisfied groan.

* * *

He thought he could probably get used to this. The thought of building a life with her, filled with love and music, seemed like the most perfect thing he could imagine. She leaned over and brushed her lips against his and he couldn't help but smile, feeling like his whole life had just changed for the better.

"Sing something for me, Rayna," he said. She thought for a moment, then started with one of the songs she'd told him was a favorite.

 _There's something you got that really gets me going  
It's hard to believe the way the feeling's growing  
So, let me say before my heart starts showing  
I'm only in it for the love…._

 _ **THE END**_

 _A/N: This was where I'd always planned to end this, when everything was still shiny and new for Deacon and Rayna, before the rest of their lives happened. I do have an idea for something else a little later in their history, but we'll see what happens with that. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
